Obvious Imperfections

No, this isn't where the line for morals begins. I have obvious imperfections. The sun has been setting all day and I'm completely incapable of anything. The only piece of jewelry I own zipped up to my chin. It dangles like your hope for salvation, but I only want to get warm. The worst fucking time of year, when everything is covered in dirty snow and jaded reasons for living. I think that you're only in love because you're cold. I understand that you don't want to be alone but I don't share the sentiment. I've been questioning everything, from the roots that start on your head and grow down to your knees; the social constructs we've inherited, the things we'll never break; I let my flag of flaws fly and cast a broad shadow; maybe it will all get better when we make it to wild's end. Can't you understand that I just want to be alone?