I am at home with the cold,
Born into its lair,
Raised by its hands.
I am its unwitting slave,
Numbed into unresisting captivity.
This is no way to live.
The cold nurtures nothing,
It may staunch the rot of life,
But along with it,
Passion is leaden.
Yes, I am in my element.
Encased in a cell of ice.
Yearning for the sun to shine,
Its rays to melt my walls with their warmth.