300. October 27th
The harsh and misty air appears harmless
But is cold and damp,
Its hidden power is waiting to strike
A solitary passer-by.
It worms trough even the warmest coat,
Reaching towards you heart,
Chilling you through in its quest to find
The warmth that lies there.
Survival, for it, depends on this:
Misery for others around.
Stealing warmth and destroying kindness,
Are its only aspirations.