My season

Sun doesn't shine in me, nor do I ever light, Birds don't chirp on my season nor do they learn to take flight. There's no sound of wind in there, no sound of rain or snow, I just hear a few voices in me, that makes me wanna bow. Nothing grows to spread around, nothing comes to demise, It's dark in here, nothing's there, it's like an abyss. There's no oxygen to breathe in, you might feel suffocated, Don't try to experience my season dear, you'll find yourself living dead. My season isn't artificial, it's naturally nutrured, So, its better to stay cautious than to feel later tortured. Nobody likes this season since it matches no one's taste, People find it imaginary but only I have experienced it best. Everyone's season changes sometimes but mine has never done anyway, I suffocate in it yet my truth, is never cherished everyday.