Whilst chilled under the skin,
I can't help but make it colder
Sights of pure beauty,
Dropping gracefully from the sky.
The soft, crispy ground,
Waiting down below
The chill is in the air,
But the bliss is in the sight.
Terror of such might travel,
That's only so great in the night.
The soul of a place transformed.
A dull road turned bright white.
Some strange comfort in the cold.
The prison coated in white gold.
I'll be sad to see it go,
The prison become, once more.














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