It's colder then sweaters and jackets.
My feet drifts from where I love to be cause the wind has become a yell more then a sweet whisper.
I wear words that are not mine just to hear another person speak,
What I say is so..so..soo weak..
My displine fails me and my mind leaks dreams of what's to come as most I lay in a pool of keys but don't know where the door is to exit..well Me..

I look to the heavens of a God or religion or a diety.
For me Hes a God where does my help come from? My help comes from The Lord the maker of heaven and earth.

You don't feel it?
If you don't ask your self

"what am I missing"?

-pool full of keys with no exit,
Maybe the key is you..