paintballs flying
I see through my mask
the projectile explode
on the tree next to me
a brilliant explosion of vibrant color
of blue
the same color as my bruise
from the next paintball fired
from the gun of my enemy

Winter is cool
many things are canceled,  such as school
I soon begin to think
that spring will come late
but the skeleton trees still stand straight
harsh winter winds rush away sin
deep in the heart of the forest
a cabin lit with fire, sharing gin
my mind turns to June
when winter will die,  more than soon