The Ashen Snow
So, it is obsession?
Thieves in the night come to steal me away
Nightingales shriek, cries clear as day
And here, in my posession
The memories that made me this way.
Or could it be passion?
Snow falls but there's no purity anymore
What once sparkled is leaving me sore
The white snow now sickly and ashen
I've never been this bitter before.
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