The red hatred in the white winter

The red, the crimson red I hated in hair. It's just the bubbling turmoil inside, I keep telling myself...

The more I know, the less I understand. I think because I exist.
I was just a little character who could be dressed in anything, be anything, say anything... that's freedom... no... it's choices and possibilities. Then I rewind and do something else. The story took a different path.

I wanted to be more. There was pain inside. My vision is so distorted... I can't see beyond the ghost of the past.

When I'm afraid, I'm paralysed. Am I allowed to be afraid? Or is it hypocrisy?

I hate that I hate. And I hate that I love. When I love, it causes pain... when I hate, it's because of pain.

When winter comes, it's for everyone. The cold freezes even the warmest embraces and hearts.