Frostbit fingertips caress the razor's edge. 
Cold ideals implanting themselves inside my head.
Inadvertent gestures given effortlessly by my limbs. [bad word] of warmth never sets in.
This is an endless winter. 
One where the air gets thinner.
proclamation to the clement seasons. 
War without a rhyme or reason.
Turmoil is elemental and so simplistic a feature.
Though personal and integral, I cannot bear to brace this creature.
It's [bad word] deeper. 
This feeling urges my cliffs steeper.
Stepping closer to see the fall. 
Negligence consumes my all.
Have I let go of what I am? 
I stand here with unclenched hands.
Retreating into my own. 
Enduring this all alone.
I scream to remember passion. 
Unheard emotions in breathtaking fashion.
Frostbit fingertips caress the razor's edge.
Cold ideals implanting themselves inside my head.
We are all the same; unique and indifferent. 
Living as if this cryptic fever is isolated, but it isn't.
Have I let go of what I am? 
I stand here with unclenched hands.
Retreating into my own. 
Enduring this all alone. 
Have I let go of what I am?

/ [bad word]