Contrast against the blinding, blizzard winds
thy frigid, bitchy heart is not as warm.
The temperate polar gales are my friend
compared to thy back stabbing, faithless lies.
When I observe thy treatment of people,
I'm left surprised that anyone would try
to weather thee and all thy heartless bull.
At least the winter rains will water crops,
while thee shall soak us with thy dramatized
uncaring gossip. Shall I go or stop
comparing thee to winter's stormy guise?
If I had choices to be made 'twixt thee
or blizzards, then I ask thee: let me freeze.
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