Frozen. My soul is absent, I've been left to be a walking corpse. Paper skin over delicate bony fingers, shakily grasping the last shard of reality that I've managed to protect for myself. The ice is traveling, Beautiful frosty diamonds around this empty shell. This mind is troubled by the bitter emptiness. Trapped in this state with no light through this dark tunnel. Silence. A sickening silence inside of this shell, Preserved in this figurative ice. The warm of his mouth a drop of morphine, but never enough to melt it all. Never easing all of the silent agony. My nerves have died out, My veins are black, Full of cold poison. Barely a face, More a bled out portrait. Dull eyes, Purple lines graceful paint strokes across the paper flesh & fragile bones, splashes of crimson smeared across. The glint of a razor blade is where i find my amusement. Still in this limbo, Trying to crawl out. Goals remain in shards, Putting them back together is like handling broken glass. I'm frozen here. No destination. A hopeless little soul, A dangerous little wanderer. These cries for help are hardly a whisper. I've lost purpose. I'm frozen here.