Cold Betrayal
The infection of my section’s injection
Spreads stark sparks of winter’s tale
Tainted with frozen and fierce frailty —
The gentle vibration of the cold.
With burns beneath the skin, bluer than the sky
To scry the coming of death’s scythe dipped
In wicked nitrogen awakened by the temperature
Of a world without hope beyond the threshold.
The sorrow is we don’t expect this coming,
Becoming complacent, patient with a world
That tends to change with the seasons,
And we take that for granted.
Supplanted by a seed of immovable sadness
Like time stopped except for the growing branch of hatred
Harsh and hallowed with halls and dark hearts
Of hollow hopelessness viscerally enchanted.
The icy dagger stabs before we expect it.
And our expectations end faster than a pulse
Flatlined, reminded of the silence and stone
With not even a breath of fear, left alone.
And that is the greatest terror — when terror can’t even move.
Imprisoned. Shackled and…
