What do you do when
the world seems so cold that
even writing can’t provide warmth.
Your being shivers as you try to
cover yourself with the tiny flame
that normally is an inferno;
your hands type along the keys
but they are slow and weak.
Your eyes are soft, your heart motionless,
and mind blank. Who has this power?
How do you conquer? Or is this
just the way that it is going to be?