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Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
Poems
Jul 2015
513: Cold Soul
This icy morning chills me
No warmth for my bones
Just frozen touches of misery
Wind like a Banshee moans
Bitter thoughts in my head
No one to ever tenderly want
For I am one with the undead
As this torment continues to haunt
If only love could come my way
Temptation to warm this soul
Someone to show hope this day
To allow my lost emotions flow
Copyright © Chris Smith 2010
#vampire
Written by
Chris Smith Dark Poet Soul
Hemel Hempstead
(Hemel Hempstead)
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