The sound of winter,
Of chilled voices, and frozen heartbeats.
Cutting words, an icy splinter.
The sky overcast, no longer containing the sun's sweets.
Winter winds whistling through the air,
Pushing out the last lick of life.
Dead words the only memory of a summer so fair.
Hell is not hot, it is frozen tundra of the afterlife.
It is the hellscape containing the broken vows of those who give up,
Shards of clear ice, and frosted stone.
The chill of night, crying to the night like an abandoned wolf pup.
Blood and flesh peeling away from bone.
The stars shine unforgiving,
SIlence is the sound of winter, the enemy of the living.
