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  • Writer's picturetheplantnews


Françis Melançon


The ice-cold blizzards of the north.

It blinds me from the truth.

Reveals my solitude.

It strips me of my freedom, whilst my limbs go numb.

My tears turn to ice, then snow, becoming one with the blizzard.

Those around me become nothing but a blur as I am engulfed in snow.

Many laugh with a smile as warm as the sun.

Whilst my heart grows cold.

Such smiles filled with joy deepen my sorrow.

Those that touch my icy skin grow cold.

I keep my distance from such.

No one must ever feel my ice-cold presence.

No one deserves to feel my heart of ice.

Even if it seems to many that I am as bright as the sun.

They must never know my truth.

(for: E)


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