I am Winter’s daughter.
On the exterior a peaceful, enigmatic and slightly intimidating display,
Far beyond the surface lay a dark, cold, eerie complex that never fails to expose itself around this time of year.
Cold to the touch is the soft skin coating my bones.
Bleak nights like the depths of my inevitable depression,
A limitless souvenir of former failures.
Whose presence creeps in the crevices of my mind, impatiently awaiting the merciless storm,
Leaving surrounding beings to fend for themselves;
A domestic war for survival-
A war on domestic terrorism.
curiosity killed the cat 