"mizer" poems
Whatever I touch,
Turns to ice in my clutch,
Whomever I begin to may know,
Shivers from my climate
That is below ZERO,
I am The Snow Mizer,
Attractive, yet so Frigid,
It is hard to believe that some
Warm bodies can gravitate towards THIS,
but when the weather changes
from Humid to Nippy,
To put it simply, I am no longer
Of any REAL good use
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC