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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1867399
The coming of death, portrayed as winter.
She creeps softly silently
lacing with cold breath
touching tenderly
fingers curling invitingly
around your arm
leg
neck
slither, slither eternally closer

She moves stealthily
discreetly through streets
some may shiver
some may embrace
her day will come
someday
somewhere
slither, slither eternally closer

She is the north wind
ruling the world
every other season
waking with the downing of the sun
her time will certainly come
today
tomorrow
slither, slither eternally closer

She is the cold
She is the fierce
She is the ice queen
The ruler of fear
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