I am frozen
in this time,
alone, cold,
yet still alive
My heart
is made of ice,
whilst my soul
is precious art,
never to be sold,
as I still grow old,
my heart shall
die alone,
as I’ll be on my own
forever,
and after…
all my friends,
and subtle laughter
Gone, as I cry…
the pain I feel
is any of it real?
or am I all but alive?
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