Frost Bitten

Distant, I stir to mourn,

all along paved stones,

of what I want to call

my picturesque home.

My dreams they change

and morph so I survive

and tread ever forward

leaving my pain behind.

Yet stagnant is a motion

I call from down below;

because years bled dry

optimism within bones.

I’ve felt the world mire

directions I would take.

Smooth stones beneath

my feet they begin ache.

Far from my destination

I begin to feel hope slide.

Yet I’m just feeling forces

from within, not outside.

I know what I do control,

I can not change a world

plaguing who deserves a

hope a joy life may afford.

I am graced with comfort,

one that on my own’s lost.

Inside this shadow of me

from my past’s frigid frost.

On my path I twist to turn

back and see whom I was.

Frozen I need angels for

their voices to give cause.

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