I ran against the wretched wind
With whimpering empty breathing
That couldnt push my lungs to go on.

I let myself die there
So i could carry on this creation.
It's dark lifeless lore--yet to me it lived.

It held no expectation
And burdened no hope.
Just boundlessly free and naive.

It lusted hard and loved.
Years have past and it's living within me,
a makeshift memoir to a self I could be.
I'm building the strength to cast it away
And fight through the wind with my new improved me.