Winter

The coldness of winter can never
creep into our bones; it can only
show us how
life could go on even when
so still,
and plain.
But,
it could sure be found
within our hearts,
now hard frozen stones;
all the love have dried up.
Even winter seems to be warmer
when we look through the windows
of our cold hearts,
where we remain locked
by the chains of rotten desires.


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