Snow: as blank as one’s malnourished glare strolls
Through its’ courtyard of embittered forks of
Maliciousness and warps itself into
Another’s frolicful play amongst cold
And portentous bites of atrocity
Alas, it ends its allure of devilry
By twining its claws with the vain wooden
Hands of nature and letting itself melt
Into puddles of envious rage, for
It’s now that you waltz in your own fury
