Blood Calls to Blood

Blood calls to blood, a red pool of memories passed from parent to child. I once believed that it was the wind, the wind that moved my soul and whispered of blood. I was fooled, it was not the wind but the cold, blood calls to blood. I am the cold that bites your skin, paints it blue with frost. I am the chill that scrapes against your bones, sending shivers done your spine. My soul is a crystalline landscape, a living sculpture of ice. It is ice that courses through my veins, snow are the tears on my cheeks. I am a Winter-child. Frosty eyes, icy gaze… but a warm heart. Blood calls to blood, mine is just a little colder.


About Fredrik Kayser

Everything is connected.
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2 Responses to Blood Calls to Blood

  1. Fredrik Kayser says:

    Thanks, Seth! :)

  2. sethsnap says:

    Powerful words.

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