Cold I am as the warmth of the Tundra;
Yet, my true warmth is your celestial aurora.
My heart may fulfill a land with corpses;
It has just enough empathy;
Tho, my spirit rides on flying horses
Since XP is my only therapy.
Thirst is indeed rapturing;
The knowledgeable’s books, poems and words;
They all serve us nourishing,
Feeding our grey and dark matters with worlds.
Indeed, the world seems first illusory;
Exceptions against our principles;
Tho, we must swim only our story,
With or without flippers.
As good writers say;
Just give me a pen and a piece of paper;
I got you on a happy day,
Be ready to perfect all my prayer.
I’ve seen too much, my heart is weaken’d;
Happiness is emerged with dark;
Tho, these words are already hearkened,
God’s given me you instead of heart.
I feel coldness, but you dress warm the Tundra;
Sith, my warmth is your celestial aurora.