She bled until she realised that she had no heart;
This came as no surprise, for it was always her weakest part.
Her blood ran hot until she found the ice inside her veins,
Her soul left to mourn inside the shell that remains.
Her pulse became a mere illusion to throw the wolves off her dead scent.
Her internal pressures relieving her of all consent.
Her cells are painted red and her eyes are painted black;
Her minds unrest has cursed her with the view of an insomniac.
With her skin as white as snow, she reflects the ice within;
Beware, for this frozen Queen’s wrath, has yet to begin.
Each one of us holds a darkness somewhere deep within our heart.
Do not waste your energy and debate whether it is there.
It is there. We merely decide the contrast.
Does one show strength by proving themselves?
Does one become strong and be themselves?
The choice is yours, will you add more light into your darkness?