Icicle
A boring safe warm rooftop
blocks cold from those inside
as frozen, I am of the wrong side.
Storm long passed, house yet unbreached,
I in bitter warmth start to understand
I am something unneeded,
in despair running down the side.
At the fringe of life greeted by solidarity,
crystalizing myself something new
clear beautiful a testament to the ice,
living upon the edge of warmth.




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