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The hallways whisper -echoing -repeated
By the walls and windows.
Bleak, macabre snow drowns the trees
Suffocating this world of mine- with
A cold that refuses to thaw.
I walk through this house that breathes
Beneath my feet and contemplate my pain
Wandering through the crying passageways,
I feel the icebergs within my soul.

by Monica Smith

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