a frosted perception

a frosted perception is all that i have,
as i peer through this window pane,
a view skewed by light refracted,
as it passes these icy veins,

over the imagery presented i muse,
what do i see? what can it be?
using all my logic on a view so caustic,
so very little i deduce,

a tombstone, i think i see a grave,
is it death i crave?
blissful rest of the certain dead,
am i that depraved?

a severed heart still beating,
the pulse, a placating rhythm,
defiant and still trenchant,
even with the grave surrounding,

in the distance i hear weeping,
and over it a mordacious commentary,
the content of it a diary read out,
this person's life a warning to heed,

of all this i can make no sense,
i think the cold has got to me,
i shiver, i can muse no more,
the future perhaps i've seen,

hopeless, perhaps i'm only dreaming,
pleasing in the view was one thing,
something small, like a feeling,
it sparked in me curiosity,

a box, an interesting visage adorning it,
i like her face, i think i care for her somehow,
a name written on the side, pandora it says,
maybe i should enter and open it,

something nags at me not to,
a future or doom lie in the closed box perhaps?,
curiosity gives me a reason to continue,
should i? which will this box bring me?