Icecube Poem by Luna Moon

Chilly,
The icecube does freeze.
It stings like the many thousands of bees.
Oh how it burns thine hand of mine,
An end to this pain I must certainly find.
Like a whip it cracks,
And thy hand begins to flush.
Save me from this icecube,
These screams I cannot hush.
Now thine icecube begins to melt,
And left in it's place is a reddened welt.
I'd rather die than hold thine ice,
For I fear that its pain I cannot suffice.