{"sf1_id":583095,"sf2_id":"ynZXw3Me","title":"Cold","author":"nytedewolf","words":125,"posted_at":"2013-08-29T20:10:00.000Z","tags":["Winter","cold","lonely"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/583095-cold","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/ynZXw3Me","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/b9/a2/b9a21f67-4cc2-4811-b1aa-6cceb4c0d60d","description":"A poem about how I feel at times during the midnight hour of the soul.","content":"it's getting cold  \nas the days are growing old  \nthe winter is coming  \nthe winter of the soul  \n  \nI wonder why   \nas I wander by   \nwhy am I so lonely  \nwhen so many are near  \n  \nyet as I lean against the glass  \nwatching people pass  \nfor a moment its crystal clear  \nthen its gone just as fast  \n  \nit leaves me shivering in my fur  \nwhen those missing emotions stir  \nevery time someone walks past  \nthe thought of a friend at last  \n  \nbut every day all i see   \nwhere I should be  \nin the mirror is a mask   \nis it to much to ask  \n  \nis it me the reason why  \nevery day inside I die  \nor is it them who stand aside  \nquietly,as I wander by\n\n  \n  \n\n"}