All But Alive

I am frozen

in this time,

alone, cold,

yet still alive

My heart

is made of ice,

whilst my soul

is precious art,

never to be sold,

as I still grow old,

my heart shall

die alone,

as I’ll be on my own

forever,

and after…

all my friends,

and subtle laughter

Gone, as I cry…

the pain I feel

is any of it real?

or am I all but alive?