Poems

Cold

A drop of water on his cheek,
From the unforgiving sky.
How he wished the tears would flow,
But he seemed to have run dry.

Tugs and pulls upon his clothes,
From the hostile wind.
How he wished it'd shred him up,
And leave him to his end.

Insults and cruel taunts,
From the previous peers.
How he hates the echos caused,
That followed him for years.

His skin has become ice,
Bones have hardened still,
His lips have turned blue,
Due to the night chill.

The searchlights have since faded,
For the body has grown old.
Now the body is opposite,
Of the temperature his soul was.
The man got his wish, to become
Stone cold...