Winter comes,
Cold and desolate as my heart.
I breathe
And all is frozen before me:
The air turns to crystal stars.
The sun meekly bows to my presence;
Fades while darkness, slow as a seeping stain
Spreads across the once pale sky.
My footfalls
Turn the ground to glass.
Ice beads the trees as nature tries to weep,
Retreats before me with fleeing warmth.
Shivering at my passing,
Lamenting my arrival.
Within my soul there dwells no mercy.
For I am winter.
And I am Death.
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