A story of abstract feelings

The will droops and withers

In slow motion

Breaking silently with loud cracks

Echoing through neurons and firing up

All the ice settled through winter

It is still winter

Can you tell?

The eyes drink in the confusion

Methodically with no purpose

Zigzagging through hmms and erms

Stepping on frozen toes

And blackened fingers

Shivering beneath the glazed pupils

The hands, they don’t move

Stricken in fury

Broken in heavy emotions

Bursting at the seams

The fists form

Digging nails into ashen palms.

The End

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