Icy Soul

As I walked along the cold, windy street, I saw a wisp of smoke in the air, Drifting and curling, like a ghostly sheet, A lonely figure, standing there. At first I thought it was a burning ember, But as I drew near, I saw it was a cigarette, A symbol of a soul that's filled with amber, A heart that's hidden deep, but not quite set. For who can know what lies beneath the surface, What secrets hide within the human heart, What darkness lurks in the hidden recesses, Of a soul that's cold and lonely from the start. The smoke may rise and vanish in the wind, But the true nature of a soul is hard to find. It may be dark and twisted, or gentle and kind, But one thing's certain: it's not defined. So let us not judge by what we see, For appearances can be deceiving, And in the end, it's what lies beneath, That truly matters in our believing.