Captures not

Knowing
never really helped.
Still groping in the dark
looking ever so depressed
knowing that
she did not know
would only suffice
to kill. But yet,
the darkness looms
and blossoms not
into spring but
into a second winter.
Snow darkens the sun
and breaks down again
into nothing which can be
held or loved or helped.
And so be the creature
who dies alone
in metaphorical winter
which captures
no imagination and
no hearts
for which to love it so.