Death is like a quiet snow. Soft and cold. It covers the land like a white blanket and promises an undisturbed sleep.

Death is like a bitter frost. Cold and sharp, shards of ice. It comes so suddenly to choke out the life. It always appears in the dark of night then flees away at morning’s light but never without a trace of its presence.

Death is like a blizzard cold. Hailstones falling and winds that howl. Colors blur as emotions merge. The pain of the air is felt like a knife. Sight is lost in the grayish white. Though we try and though we fight, the snow covers everything. Even the life.

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