Confronting A Dead Snow

March 21, 2010
A tool for the reaper

Your coldness associates you with death

Cold as ice,

But ice isn’t death

Ice is a warm summer sipping lemonade

Your harmless appearance gives you away

Slipping down from the sky you are too innocent,

You are more the day after

The reaper has done his job and you try to cover it up,

But I see through your charade

I watch your suicidal act

Giving yourself up for your master

Little shreds of soul

Finally laying to rest, but taking another on your way down

Your sentence is served as you land on a drooping green leaf,

A warm tongue,

A capped head

No guilt for the life taken so you could fall

But your not the one put in front of the judge

Now I am the judge and you’re in jail

But that’s not enough I’m waiting for the day the world sees your true colors

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