I here the whispering of the walls that surround me,
They talk of my memories and tragedies that glimmer in the distance,
The halls fantasize of having a voice to speak freely,
Not having to stay still with a blank expression,
I lay on my bed positioned parallel to the wall, hearing the words of condescending judgment.

I start to drown it out with the subconscious thought of a dead,
frozen winter with snow that covers the ground.
This season i long for to feel the numbing rush of arctic blast,
And the shimmering of white flakes descending from the sky,
Compacting on the ground.

I stand out in the cold motionless in envy of being free,
Blown in the wind to escape the erratic reality of being trapped.
The hollow creaking of the trees haunts my dreams,
Acting as a soul from long ago.

I stand here waiting as winter passes with a swift, but devastating,
Toll on my mind as if i was a snowflake falling in the dead of winter.