Analysis of Thought

There is no fire burning,
for this heart has become a mire
inspired by the wintry themes
that teem outside.
Love was pushed to the side,
and joy slid out of focus
in the dark world that surrounds us
in the daylight of today.
Broken without repair,
no care comes from this body,
no gaudy shows of affection
will be found here.
The world has taken all things dear,
stings the ones who still stand,
and demands of those who have fallen
a Stalin-like coldness of the heart.
That’s where it left me,
separated from success-to-be,
and I wonder if anyone else can see
how the world has all but killed me.