The wind whispered gently sweetly  ,
It lured me asked to be let in
brushed its gentle cold fingers against my face  it was such a cold yet warm promise , the wind observed ,
The  wind planned the wind wrote down all my short comings  it waited to strike , It waited for my guard to crumble like a sweet knife cutting through my tounge so sweet but stole my ability to scream , to Yearn, to cry out for help , It rised up slowly and slowly building itself up as it cut through me a whole consuming me  a full.
I thought I asked for a breeze not a storm….