Icicles of desolation
Hanging from my ceiling
Are staring with morbid eyes
At my brittle self.
I fear the heat of my sweat
Will melt them,
parching me to halves.
Aberrant winds have started blowing,
Shattering my fragile soul.
Will you not come to be my saviour,
This night?!

- Towzia majeed. T*