Finding Neverland

Don't we all have our own Neverlands?


Snow flakes gather on my feet
As I stand on the border of Neverland
My skin, torn and dry still fights
I see no one around but a window, broken.

I peek through it, warmth I seek,
All I receive in response is darkness
Should I break through as a burglar would?
Should I remain calm and hold my ground?

The fast approaching evening haunts
I need to start a fire, this numbness taunts
The woods nearby have started the chorus
 Should I still wait or own the mystery-house?