Twenty-Below Zero
The deepest chill of wavered Will-
Dry and drained of thoughts once Sane
No rush, no haste- just Time to kill
(As nervousness engulfs my Brain!)
The solemn place no eyes invade-
A world away from another's touch
The Mental Fortress I have made
From trusting people far too much...
Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet | Year Posted 2013
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