It’s so damn cold, I swear I might cry,
The wind howls sharp from a slate-gray sky.
My breath hangs thick, a frozen mist,
My body stiff, my limbs all twist.
But worse than toes that crack like glass,
Or shivers rattling through my ass,
Is the cruelest fate this cold invites —
My poor, poor nuts have caught frostbite.
I trudged through snow, my jeans too thin,
Regretting now where I’ve been.
The ice crept in, a creeping thief,
Stealing warmth, igniting grief.
At first a tingle, a teasing sting,
A frosty flirt, a winter fling.
But soon that kiss turned sharp and mean,
Like icicles lodged in between.
I cupped myself, a futile try,
As snowflakes swirled and mocked my cry.
My precious pair, my tender pride,
Shriveled up, half petrified.
I cursed the wind, I cursed the sleet,
I cursed the frost that licked my seat.
Each gust a slap, each breeze a bite,
A polar grip, a frigid blight.
I longed for fire, a roaring flame,
For summer’s heat to soothe my shame.
Yet here I stood, a frozen fool,
My nuts like rocks in nature’s cruel rule.
I hobbled home, a broken man,
Clutching my junk the best I can.
Dreaming of baths, of heated bliss,
Of anything to thaw from this.
So let this tale serve as a guide,
When winter calls, don’t run outside.
Layer up, don’t tempt your fate,
Or end up in my frostbitten state.
For now I sit, wrapped up and tight,
Praying for spring, for sun, for light.
And as I heal, I vow, I swear —
To never bare my boys to air.
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