Am I cold? You ask me often
Seeing the jacket I always wear
Even in the sweltering heat of summer
This hood is always there
Along with the ice blue glove
That covers my right hand.
And yes, cold I am indeed,
For though the sun warms the land,
My heart remains in winter's world
And it may never be let go.
When the sun stopped shining and
My soul became ice, I do not know.
For I cannot ever recall a time
When I felt like the warm sun
Warmed me and it felt like the snow
Would forever be gone;
No, from the moment I woke,
There just was no heat within
My Arctic-coloured eyes
And my snow-tinted skin.
So in a pathetic attempt
To stave off the bitter cold
That will forever haunt me
And keep me in it's winter hold,
I keep my glove and jacket on
Though snow one cannot see.
And it will be this way until
I can find someone to warm me.
YOU ARE READING
Listen (Boboiboy Poetry One-shots)
FanfictionThese boys may be fictional, but their stories are worth telling. Poems about Boboiboy, his seven elements, Fang, and Kaizo. I own only my poetry and headcanons; the characters belong to Monsta.
