People resemble ice and cold snowflake.
No two are alike, except by the name.
Gelid and icy, sometimes we're the fake.
Slowly we die by the sun, who's to blame?
Raindrops wait to become hard and frozen.
Stoic and silent, impassive they glide.
Float with the wind, some dropping not chosen.
When we're gone we take a different ride.
They evaporate, rising up to the sky.
As a cold wind that condescends they say.
People are like ice; some don't have to try.
Hopefully, not all people are this way.
Frigid and frosty is the way you felt.
Keep yourself packed up as a huge snowball.
Now what matters most is that you don't melt.
Just like the snowman, up standing still falls.
Always on a roll, always on the attack!
Wintry blizzards with broken glass shards flying.
Compassion and warmth is all that you lack.
Now to slumber, your cold front is dying.
Our shells return back to Mother Nature.
Our souls back up to the Father.
Melting to our former self this glacier.
Ours is of dirt, theirs of water.
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