Memories like ghosts haunt my being
A past from which I’m ever fleeing
A heart so scarred it shouldn’t pump
Icicles flowing through my veins
A child worth as much as trash in a dump
A walking set of cold remains.
Heart of ice shattered to pieces,
The same blood it pumps it freezes
Quite alive, yet quite dead
I cried so long my eyes turned red.
I look back and ask why,
Why do some live while others die?
Is it a privilege or a penalty?
Why was it him and not me?