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The Ice Maiden Of Winter
Death and Terrible Cold. Death is What Winter has Birthed.
Death's Child's Cold Lips Whisper of Times Long Gone.
Her Heart is like that of an Icicle. Cold, Firm, and Sharp.
She Feels no Love and only Brings Death's cold Curse.
She Hasn't felt Felt Love since the Moment of Her Birth and has Never Felt Any On This Earth.
She Feels no Emotion and has no Soul.
Her Victims have all said the same of Her: “That is no Maiden, But A Demon Of The Pit.”
Her Morals are as Black as the The Moonless Night.
Prepare mere Mortal! Your Time is Up!
The Ice Maiden of Winter is Nigh!
Dear Human it is Time to say goodbye...

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I made this poem to balance out all the exsessive and overly sacrine Christmas cheer last year to keep me grounded. Esentially the poem is about a girl who feels nothing. No Joy, Regret, Grief, or Remores. She's basically been curesed to represent the cruelty of humanity in Winter. I wanted the readers to feel chilled by how dark and somber the poem is by having them feel as trapped and lonely as she was.
So yeah that's basically it. She's desprately searching for the meaning of love and doesn't know how it feels.
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