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