Poem -

White Death

White Death

from
the sky falls
the white speckled
sound of silence
Β 
taking from
everything
the color
of life
leaving
nothing but
a dull white noise
a winter landscape
already dead
made somehow more
dead by it
such is life
we are born
dead
we live
dead
and death takes
from our
death-lives
everything
which lets us
call them β€œlives”
leaving us
not living
but

Β 

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