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Garden of Paper
Wrath of Winter

Wrath of Winter

I feel the wrath of winter,

the harsh and bitter cold

Waking in the dead of lonely nights,

I hear my howls alone

But then I leave the pyre light,

and the wind encases me stone

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I hear the wrath of winter,

spirits crying out

Wraiths and ghouls and faeries,

run with me through the woods

But they wrap their arms around me,

and then I know I’m home

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I taste the wrath of winter,

the stinging in my lips

Piercing chills and numbness abound,

my blood runs cold

But the sun reaches his arms out,

and I feel his warmth and love

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I smell the wrath of winter,

wet, musky, yet necessary

Storms quiet down with all is as it should be,

as snow leaps off the trees

Scents of grass and water flowing,

while creatures emerge from their sleep

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I see the wrath of winter,

all the sorrow it can bring

Yet the world looks so bright in its blanket of white,

so somehow I can see

That while feeling the wrath of winter,

the sun always breaks free

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Now the path looks so green

I can see it in front of me

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