Snowflakes?

To fight would be to face the lie,

I've tried so hard to avoid,

But to remain still would mean to surrender,

I was not destined to bleed, it was a choice.

I often find myself running against time,

In an attempt to find my lost, now fading peace of mind,

In ends in me killing myself, leaving a white dusted trail behind,

So that my child-self won't lose her way,

And fall prey,

To the forever growing pile of dead bodies,

That desperately yell for her to turn away,

As much as they call,

She blankly skips with no hesitation at all,

Can you blame her?

That peace of mind, we trade our lives to find,

Is dancing within her, with no plans to stop.

I've tried so hard to replicate this pain-ridding feeling a different way,

But it does not signal, it barely makes a sound in my withered brain,

It ignites as a fluorescent flame, and I stand cold looking to numb the pain,

Only to lay burnt, knowing that I'm to blame,

In my pursuit of desire, my impulsive ways fall anything short but tame.

And as she dips her curious finger onto the white dust,

A grand spectacle of light incites within her,

She'll be warned not to run towards it,

But as the light grows, so does her dislike to listen. (Unfinished low-key idk)