Winter Winds

The winds are whipping, in the harsh cold of winter, bruising my body, making every nerve crass. Frozen soild down to my soul. The streams of sun through the thicket of clouds do little to burn through the complex formation of snowflakes that coat my body, the frost so thick i see nothing but white. I try to wake myself from the slumber that the harsh ice queen has dammed me to but no effort seems to coax my soul,to awaken from its icy tomb. Oh how i wish the sky would crumble and lava would pour from the heavens, for i would love nothing more then the world to end in the burning passion of fire, and not the soulless abyss that ice has to offer.