my-ruin's Diaryland Diary
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a poem for echo.
where not even a fire god could disturb me.
I sit still and notice every little icicle that hang from the sky
too cold to melt even the slightest bit.
I sit still and i know the rain will never come
the clouds are frosted over.
I sit, still with my eyes wide awake
pondering my cold existence
I sit still at night
and admire the beauty of the icy stars on the blackest of nights.
I sit still. Far too cold to move any muscle of my body
that tried its hardest to pump warm blood.
I die. Sitting still head up,
my green eyes up at the frozen sky and ice moon.
I died. Cold, alone,
still sitting.
Dead, because I couldn't live.
- Natalie
8:48 p.m. - 08.07.01
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