Snow

Most would call it beauty
And in such respects it's so
Falling down so succulently
Covering all with powdered woe.

In this month it drives down to our bones,
Crawling in so stealthily right into our clothes.
And catching one might seem like fun,
That is until; it's freezing you all numb.

It often has a habit of suffocating everything
So that not even a single plant can see.
The cold searing your throat with each breath you take.
Is more like fire singeing skin disdainfully unpalatable.
Pain so unbearable you can't believe you exist.

As such it now becomes a mist.
Hollowing out your lungs,
And yes it's beautiful
It's everywhere. And, it knows
No one but itself.