By Kaycie Cooper
Queen of the damned,
mistress of the night.
Beauty is she, though it is a vanity in-cased in ice.
On a throne of translucent cold she sits.
Her immortal eyes glazed by sheets of diamond frost.
Visions of death she brings, seeings of eternity in frozen waste.
Her heart a glacier within her chest.
Her embrace turns the heart within to stone.
Hear her soft whisper, and your blood shall run cold.
Lovers seduced into hypothermia by her touch.
Victums shattered by her grasp.
Her anger a never ending avalanche.
Her despair a terrifying hailstorm.
Her love an unearthly veil of blue.
Upon seeing her i wept.
To my knees i fell,
tears i shed,
only to find in her presence droplets of snow…
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