Warming hands
and warming hearts,
melting the ice around it.
It's misty essence
warms hearts
and warms souls.
Frigid, suffering souls,
and brings warm smiles.
But when rushed,
it burns.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a Neurotic Insomniac
PoetryLet's see how this goes. It's time for this sleep-deprived, emotionally-unstable creature to write some shit down.
