The breath of a cold morning hits me,
Counter-point to my exsistence, I rise.
The dawn is fleeting, like a ray of light,
Or the cutting stab of ice on flesh,
It bites under the skin, chills the blood,
Freezes the spirit, and maims the soul.
I am temporary as time. Conceptual,
Birth gives conceptual life, conceptual life,
Ends.
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