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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.

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English

Published: Dec 22, 2015
LinesWords: 843

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