Icy he was the favourite play thing
of winter, abused by so many touched
in inappropriate ways. Said to be pure
but always ****** on in so many ways.

Parents dropped him from a height.
Screams echoed from the heavens till
he was broken in to fearful pieces below,
his aguish was individual tears descending .

But he found no peace in the solitude
of lingering white, as throw in jest upon
all manners of objects till he either was
silent or just broke regrettably apart.

Icy had feeling but all that was left
after he was used, All a puddle of
misused emotions that were more suited
for a drain and he evaporated silently away.