ICE
Like the calm before the storm,
Beckoning the wrath and agony,
the wretched soul turns warm,
soaked with infantile blood money.
tangible thoughts spear head,
a gush of blood reaches the nerve,
at the end of the world you thread,
Cometh the closure of the curve
Bursting comes the Siberian crusher,
boding you with searing pain,
yet warm with guilty pleasure,
your smile has a twisted feign.
drowned in a black eclipse,
pray for dear god Jesus Christ,
the core of your soul is stripped,
Yes. you are iced. baby. ICE-ed.
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A little background on this poem:
This poem has been exclusively written for my office mates, who go through some trying times during demanding circumstances. When the moon aligns itself with Saturn in a particular angle, that is when all hell breaks loose and you're iced. Well, on a finishing note, i leave you out with a sneak peak at an exclusive shot accessible only from the SEZ from my office, Presenting you with the Seepz Lake! Stay tuned for more poems heading your way.
-Nikhil Bijai
