Curled up in a tiny ball,
I can not stand,
for fear I'll fall.
-
So much pain,
I must endure,
of which I haven't, found a cure.
-
Raindrops land upon my roof,
my desperationneeds no proof;
My sorrow sticks to me like glue,
I do not know,
what I will do.
-
Cries of help,
always unheard;
I do not speak,
a single word.
-
Don't take offence,
if I don't speak;
For some it comes,
so easily.

Weary winds seek solace
in the arms of conifer giants,
having not yet discovered that
even mountain pines shiver
when winter is at its darkest.

The sky is falling
head over heels
for a world that doesn't
bother looking up.

Dying embers send the last
of their flares up into the black
while we sit alongside and pray
that rescue never comes.