Skin cold as ice.
Eyes sharp and cruel.
Mouth speaking words of hate.
The very air around him is as cold and dark as his soul.
He takes in long skeptical breaths though it brings no comfort.
His chest is still and quiet.
No warm thumping of a heart.
This heart wont beat for it has grown so hard it cannot.
Bitterness has over ruled this humanly form of life and warmth.
Those who met him hate and pity him at once.
They hate the man with no soul, warmth, or gentleness.
The pity the man with no love, home, or hope.
The despise the man with the heart of stone.
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