Turn not this beauty from your skin, Do not deny its wintry kiss; This touch of trouble deep within Has brought you to the brink’s abyss, Where self is laid on frozen shrine, Blowing chaff from every cell, Sowing strength in every line, Birthing beauty honed by hell.

Turn not this beauty from your skin,
Do not deny its wintry kiss;
This touch of trouble deep within
Has brought you to the brink’s abyss,
Where self is laid on frozen shrine,
Blowing chaff from every cell,
Sowing strength in every line,
Birthing beauty honed by hell.
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