Looks Like I made it to Springtime

Looks like I made it to Springtime...
I was never sure this winter.
I thought maybe the frosted windows were from my last living breath
the cold in my bones from the grave
the gray overcast sky, the vault of hell
and the snow, my pure white shroud...

Looks like I made it to Springtime...
after changes so powerful my skin itched,
my poor dumb heart, broken again and again, yet, beating still
my eyes blurred, from pain or bourbon,
my hands shaking from unknown fears
and my mouth slack and drooling...

Looks like I made it to Springtime...
The daffodil buds about to burst,
the light green mist of the trees like the woodland spirit's aura.
Hope... Spring... eternal...
The season of rebirth...
I wonder who I will be this time?