I am in the winter,
 and I am in the snow.
 I am the child of a vengeful cloud
 Through the black trees, my sharp winds weave
 and grow (echo,
 I echo)
 I am a quiet death,
 I will take them while they sleep
 I am the rattle of their window pane, 
 And the numb beneath their 
 I will wake you at the moment,
 in the deepest of your
 When the moon wanes to the 
 center and lightning meets with 
 When a rush sets through the freezing
 I’ll bleed you out, and strangle 
 your dreams
 I’ll spend the last of the air that I breathe
 to bring you down here, into the deep
 with me
 (into the deep, you will be
 here, with me) 

~ A. L. Stippich

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