My mind fogged like a wooded path,
Sadness dews in my brain.
While Death's laugh echos, I think,
Am I going insane?
Frigid and cold is myself,
Like the winter's snow.
Dragging and pulling to a place,
I do not want to go.
My fingers are numb from the cold,
As pins and needles have taken hold.
How am I still alive?
How am I so weak?
Dripping, pooling, gushing blood,
My heart has sprung a leak.
Cold and frigid my skin has turned,
As I prepare my body to be burned,
My heart is warm at last.
~SJ~