Loneliness creeps in like an ache in the darkest part of your soul.
Slowly the warmth that is your being is replaced by fear, fumbling memories, and dreams of a past that must now only appear like a script, a page from somebody else’s life, unrecognizable, unfathomable…
Seeking shelter from the storm you burrow deeper inside. You hide from yourself, your peers, and your shame. Naked is the soul in this shivering cold, this place of dark fear, endless dusk. You dig past your dreams and your wasted years, they are like the decayed carp from a dried pond, and it sickens you. You can hear the buzzing fly; you can smell the wretched scent, this is, I am sure the death of your soul, your youth. The hearts own ache feeds on what was once hope. How did it come to this? You had such plans.
A chill runs your spine and the thought that this will never end…this is your winter, your storm, your last gaze on this life’s fragile form. Gone are the sun filled days of our youth’s long summers…replaced by the cold, fright and chill of this coming storm…this…last winter, this last storm…
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