Unprepared

A darker day grows grey and cold.
Behold the icy mass,
the crass and unforgiving chill
that bows to no lighter step
or salty precaution;
it’s us who cower
and slip upon its glazy eye
with which it weeps
a blackened sheet
beneath its white mascara.
Fall victim to the winter’s eye
and cry your neatly frozen tears
to a howling air of disregard,
for nobody here can hear
nor see you ‘neath their many furs
and shoes not made for Winter.

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