I've reached far beyond the extremities of hypothermia With an ice land for a soul Warmth will never indulge with my heart Those were the tales you have been told
But I yearn for the summer sun To melt what's left of my iceberg smile When will the snowy residue cease to escape my eyes? When will the storm settle within my mind?
My thoughts lay like rubble Scattered and confused in a pile Well the tales are true My cold front will confirm your suspicions They will freeze every acre of hope you had for me
But deep down... I'm a snowflake Intricate to the eye and delicate to the touch
— Nanda Regine
From "Inside Her Roses"
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