First comes the frost
when the threat draws near,
a feeling of being lost
as icy feathers appear.
The cold of that bitter chill
numbs and holds me still,
while a fog blurs every thought.
The weight of the ice sheet
forms its unwanted shield;
I’m stunned — I cannot beat
a false protection that leaves me unhealed.
I am frozen to my seat,
unable to move,
a statue of my defeat —
impossible to prove.
No one can see this battle,
no one could ever tell;
I’m silent in the struggle,
locked inside my shell.
My breathing turns shallow,
my mind goes blank,
my insides frozen hollow;
beneath the blanket, I sank.
My heart starts to race
with an icy fear
that I will have to face
being trapped, frozen here.
Panic surges through me —
there is no way to show,
for my screams are buried
deep in the drifting snow.
The frozen version of me
offers no sign, no clue
of what’s breaking inside
beneath these icy hues.
When the threat finally leaves
and the ice starts to thaw,
my mind begins to grieve
its hold so raw.
As the cracks start to spread,
its grip begins to lift;
slowly it draws back —
I feel the faintest shift.
Little by little the layers shed;
the first to rise is my head.
Next comes my breath —
long forgotten, yet near;
slowly it returns,
but the fear does not disappear.
I look around the room,
trying to understand;
shame floods through me
as I try to stand.
Shaky, confused,
and still in the dark,
I carry the quiet fear
of the frost-bitten mark.
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