Frost of The Unheard

The alone man walked in the north
conceiving ideas, which he deceived
himself that only he could put a thought

The wind was ice cold, so he wrapped
around a shell of leather and black
layer upon layers, layers upon a layer

One day as he was talking
to a frozen mirror,
along walked a stranger, a warmth bearer

He was stunned, his isolation
was broken and ruined
a dream shattered and tortured

He lost his voice, forever to be
unheard.