I can see things that are forgotten and hidden...things invisible to you. I can see a cold wind turn down, and stare upon someone's eternal winter.
I can see you toss and turn the way only you do. The way you embrace the sad lies having crept into your heart some time ago. My sister and I see cold things, frozen things...those who worship empty skies, and meaningless days.
The blood hardens in your veins this way. The burden of a lost heart turns it to stone in the chest until that misery grows distilled in terrible passion. That passion twists and bends reality until only the faith of the end remains..the faith that believes there is nothing and no more.
Small things grow sharp this way....cold things cut and bend their will into the form as that of a knife, so ready to harm others and themselves perpetually. Do not be so hasty to cut your swathe of life, and so grimly at that...when the things hidden in you deserve to be seen again.