The wind's breath stole mine as I entered her domain,
I heard if she stole your soul you were trapped in an uncontrolled cycle.
She had the temperature in the room set below freezing,
She kept her things bare, yet dead.
Nothing with substance insight, emptiness was all I breathed in.
Deep pockets of white,brown,black allowed a clear liquid to escape.
Drip...   Drip...   Drip.
She looked enthusiastic as she decorated her playground with icicles.
Cold is the only way to describe her today.