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David Watt
Poems
Dec 2015
Icey Cored
Ice grips my heart.
I tell myself this every morning.
Blizzards deafen my mind,
I drive with the windows down at fifteen below.
Freezing me to solid stone,
Unreachable by human hands.
Beautiful on surface clear,
Deathly to those that dare come near.
Written by
David Watt
milton keynes
(milton keynes)
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