It is snowing today, lightly, laying on the ground a thin white carpet.
You see the footprints. Of a man, a raccoon, a dog, a cat.
You shovel the snow away, the footprints are gone.
The snow falls, you find the footprints again.
A sense of reincarnation.
It's a time you want to remember, a time you want to forget.
To forget the laughter, to forget the tears.
To remember you exist, to forget you ever exist.
To forget how it hurts when you lost a friend, to forget the struggles a life has to endure.
As clean as the white carpet looks, underneath are paths of dirt.
Standing on the thin white carpet, suddenly, you have that longing for nothingness.
