Fragile and frozen
Like a sculpture
Made out of
Thin ice.

The depths beneath,
Are dark and cold,
And will lull you
Into a trickster's sleep.

One after the other,
They dare to break the ice
Of her skin,
And she looks at them
With pitch black eyes.

And they cannot tell
If it is fiery destruction,
Or the cold embrace of the unknown
That sits behind her iris's,
But either way,
Knees start to shake,
And teeth start to clatter.

Grasping at their throats,
Hands grabbing at flesh,
She stares at the foolish nature of them,
And blinks.

There is no action,
No voice.

Turning from the airy
Ice cold presence,
They take a stab at the statuesque
Figure of stone
And she screams.

It's shrill
And suddenly she turns,
And claws are tearing at their eyes.

Dark eyes bleeding black.

She bites into
Their throats,
Ripping part A
From part B.

Scarred knuckles crack
Onto jaws
And she
Loses it.

Upon the thought of loss,
She is neither fragile or frozen.