A Guide On Being Cold
The chill in my bones is familiar
Like the icicles grasping my skin
I learned I was cold blooded at five
When the universe told me my sin
The first thing to gather is paint
To aurify your skin with each stroke
When gilded they'll think you're just metal
So they won't be surprised when you're cold
The second task is the boiling pot
Learn to cook yourself over the flame
(If you boil the chill our of your soul
Are you sure it is you that remains?)
When that doesn't work you need to scream
Loud enough to get Their attention
When They all tell you there is no curse
Consider your ice with clear tension
Your permafrost sealed your inner chill
Yet hardened against all sharp objects
I'm sorry you boiled bruised battered bones
But definement rallies through progress
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