I decided to try my hand at iambic pentameter. :)
Empty spaces filling plastic chairs: the
Epitomy of loneliness washing
Out your hair only to dry your blank scalp.
Scampered about, one sleepless night, scaling
Bridges and losing fights, only to gain
What you have lost, hiding under the snow,
Under the frost. Piled in white, ivory
Maybe. One last dance with your fair lady.
Call you a king; a prince won't suffice, or
Account for the prison created by
Ice, or when we dare give a name to white
Quicksand, it's snow; kings prize crowns, and learn to
Let go. They sink in snow, growing somber,
God, can heaven wait a moment longer?
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