Held inside a cage of ice,
Cloak of fog, relentless vice,
Leather book within her reach,
Zealot parchment, voice to preach.
Frozen walls and clouds of snow,
Flakes of ice form down below,
Frigid breath and crystal sky,
Gemstone iris in her eye.
Words to tell through frosted glass,
Timeless thoughts, yet naught to last,
Bound within a sphere of light,
Unaware of day or night.
Frozen still, within her place,
Breathing kept in steady pace,
Soon to leave without a trace,
Ink, her voice, and ice, her face.
Poems, stories, word to word,
Free to hear, but few have heard,
Chose herself to be the chosen,
Lived by ink and fantasy frozen.
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