The Ice Specter

It is a specter, a shadow, a reflection, a branch falling

from a fir tree.

Near the blue fire of winter, speaking with any undead

animal, watching souls separate between heaven and

hell.

Observing how everything deteriorates in its path,

suffering alone, forgetting its past.

Witnessing how mortals hate each other without

suffering, watching passionate arguments unfold.

It gazes into the well, seeing the regrets of each one

without being able to express any feeling.

With those it once shared a bonfire during the icy

winds of the kingdom, unable to feel affection, joy, or

sanity.

Feeling petrified like an avalanche in a village, unable

to feel what it means to leave, speak, or love.

Trapped in a temporal vertex, unable to feel

happiness once more.

Crying blood from its eyes, still being the specter,

the shadow they once considered dead.