Frozen Over

I am cold. 

Like the heart fauled up, and a morning chill in not enough clothes. 

Succumbed and Seduced, 

I do not know, waking up, 

Where my Soul lays. 

Lies to wake me up; 

And breed. 

Lies to wake me dear, 

And drown me. 

Lies to hold me down, 

Silently screaming in water underneath, 

And there, the hands that hold me, 

Like trust breaking innocence 

In bikes ways, 

And forever. 

She searches, chilly, 

Looking for it again. Blizzards kill hope, as though awaiting for your own lost death. 

I am dying and have been dying a long, time, a long death, 

And maybe that's what she meant, by saying "you don't actually die when you die". 

But rather awake again, I wonder? 

I am tired about EVERYTHING in this life. 

Isn't it a lie, to freeze that over? 

To not want more, some way? 

Because I do, but I can't find it here. 

Here, 

With Hell frozen over.