Poetry

Snow

You told me I was like the first snowfall

Pure, unadulterated, and I make everything around you seem more beautiful, covering up the dirt of the world.

I wish you hadn’t said that.

Yes, snowfall is beautiful,

for the first night,

But when it freezes it causes so much damage

And the plows drive through it, haphazardly throwing it off the street so others can come through more safely

People hurt every time they walk through it

And slowly but surely, it turns to slush,

dirty, brown, and in everyone’s way.

Please don’t tell me I’m like snow

Because snow always melts,

And the dirt inevitably comes to show.

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