Frostbite

This is the first in my series of element referenced poems. Of course this one referencing Ice

Cold creeping, stinging my flesh.

Struggling is futile, there's no escaping the icy grip.

That grip which surrounds me,

sends shivers up my spine, blackens and freezes my skin.

The cold tearing through my body,

straight for my wounded, now icy heart.

This coldness that kills me, is not a freezing ice, or chilling snow,

it is you, your disgust of me, of who I am, who I will always be.

This chilling, painful hatred, that kills me will never end.

It will go on, and as will I, until you icy grip is upon me again.

And when it does, I shall try to find the warmth of compassion,

with no success, and there I shall I suffer from frostbite.

The End

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