“I’m cold,” I mutter to no-one in particular

Trudging through the snow, can’t feel my toes,

mucus freezing in my nose

“better off perpendicular”

again, to no-one near specifically.

the air is mundane, so I complain ,

verbally portray my disdain

I’m usually not like this, typically.

“I’m cold,” I mutter again, as if to change the situation

no-one replies, watery eyes

how long can I withstand this guise

must face the wrath of my condemnation

“suck it up” I demand of my inner victim

just cause the ground is made of ice, doesn’t mean you cant be nice

make the choice to be better, I won’t tell you twice.

“I guess it’s not so bad,” I convince my nervous system.

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