Who Is It

the ice is frozen on the surface
but inside is a swirling storm of secrets
my face is a crypt of frozen laughter
but inside are the questions of the world
as my hair dances on my shoulders 
I look down and the ground is 
frozen
underneath my bare feet
which curl up from the cold 
but still run, run
I am the girl who runs
from whispers and wrong
but the world leads me to a better place,
a better mind,
a golden palace that is my higher self
that I retreat to
I roll my neck
look up at the clouds
this is who I am
who is it
anyway?