Blasting at my face.
Whipping at my hair.
As if seen from the the sky.
Blistering coldness.
Danger seen through my eyes.
Fear felt through my skin.
Pain felt everywhere.
Trembling, blistering cold.
But no warmth.
Alone, afraid, cold.
Abandoned.
Terrified.
Frozen,
in the blistering cold.
The feeling getting old.
My skin getting colder.
My soul getting weaker.
Losing warmth and sense.
Blistering cold.
Body nothing more.
Face reduced to raw.
Soul torn and ripped.
With a lost feeling.
In the blistering cold.
YOU ARE READING
POISON
PoetryPoetry for those who who like deep works, with twisted stanzas and what not. It includes a bit of poetry for a variety of types of people. Whoever likes it, please leave me your thoughts...
