In this place
I do sit,
Wrapped in ebony
With velvet red ribbons,
My locks of brown
Almost black,
Closed off form all
Inside a room of icy winds,
Left in night's silent bliss,
Here I wander past
These chilled thoughts of mine,
Doing nothing more
Than pondering things
That need no pondering at all,
With a smile that is always seen
But never appears.
"This is me?"
And I ponder more.
