Written by Steven Clapp and Hastywords

He stood angry; freezing

Watching them leave

Hurried footprints marking

Their narrow escape

Leaving him to grieve

Their witnessing voices

And the dead silence he

Couldn’t bring.

Over blood and ice;

His eyes follow into

Tomorrow’s endless night,

Where the wraith of regret

Would lie in wait taunting  

Not for the lives he took

But singing of his failures

For those who had survived


Howling shrieks of biting wind

Chills both his heart and mind

As he crumples defeated

Onto the crimson snow

Listening to the corpses

Put to rest at his feet

Bellowing and mocking him

From their dead blue lips

3 thoughts on “BITTER CHILL

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