Stumbling through a freezing blizzard,

barren lands frozen and withered,

hoping I will be delivered,

as I trudge so weak and shivered.


Arctic desert, hear its chime,

stretching till the dawn of time,

just a sliver of the rind,

of which lies inside  my mind.


Sheath my heart, metallic ice,

blanket it, much more than thrice,

numbness can, feel mighty nice,

when it is, your own device.


Force myself, to just not care,

about what will, or will not bear,

fruit praiseworthy, of its share.

Without trees, the orchard's bare.


Iron, copper, in my blood,

I can taste it, on my tongue,

I am golem, I am mud,

Irony, of atoms strung.


Survival first, and all else last,

Lash myself, to sturdy mast,

Wait until, the storm is past,

brace through all the biting blasts.


Ever looming constant battle,

tenuous defense from babble,

tempestuously tinny rattle,

tempest tossed, I try to grabble


with the thoughts within my head,

try to wish I wasn't dead,

"think of other things instead"?

I TRY! But all I hear is DREAD!


Smoke another cigarette,

yoke up with some more regret,

frantically fight not to fret,

and lose, as I break out in sweat.


So I'll mire here alone,

whispering my haunting tone,

blowing on with dreary drone,

only reaping what I've sown.





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