My blood runs cold,

It must be spilled,

I shiver at the thought

But the shock wears off a bit and I feel my brain go hot.

I know this is a slippery path,

I know that it is dirty.

The white flakes start to stick,

As they wait to turn to water.

Each flake is just so unique,

But equally essential.

If I can get another look as dawn breaks through,

And feel the fresh winter air,

If would fuel my empty chest,

But then the ice would start to melt,

And I’d begin to fry.

One day I’ll sparkle like that fresh snow,

Until then I’ll try not to cry,

Convince myself I’ll be alright,

And suffer through the lonely night.