Between the shadows she prowls,

roaming the streets like they’re hers,

queen of the ravens and owls,

squeezing our sight till it blurs.

The eerie domain her kingdom,

the quivering soul her prize,

she pours her bite over wisdom

and targets the light in our eyes.

The moment we step to the street

she flits to the foot of our stair,

with a snap of her fingers we’re beat

by more than our bones can bear.

We’ve covered with layers our skin,

armored with warmth our soul,

but she always finds her way in,

and knows what takes our toll.

For each she has a poison,

for each she knows where to prick,

from her depths to the surface she’s frozen

and her ice she knows how to stick.

With nothing but a touch we’re blasted,

a mere glance and our gaze goes cold,

not long have the brave even lasted,

the fate of the fallen foretold.

But I won’t be taken by her rigor,

by the ice that flows through her veins,

I’ve got blood that pulses with a vigor

that’ll tear through her icy chains.

When I walk down the streets alone

I feel on my lungs her grasp,

but my fire’s not hers to own

and this flame shall not be my last.

I refuse to succumb to her cold,

I’ll neither surrender to her death,

for ablaze is my glistening soul,

proven by the smoke of my breath.

Her cold may covet my soul,

her darkness may envy my light.

but I’ll not be one of those

that goes to her wintry night…

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