I feel as if my face is always red,
windblasted by words formed like icy crystals in the mirror
permeating my bones and leaving me so weary that I can barely stand.

They don't let me fly.
I keep asking why.
They block out the sun
and I just want to run.

I am trying to keep my feet but twisters are discreetly forming in my mind and
I am kneeling in this frozen tornado watching life swirl around me out of focus by the speeding snow of my own insecurities; screams raging behind my eyes, watching those in homes sit by the fire, finding ways I have not yet discovered to block out the chill eating at our bones.

Those I reach through the swirling haze can grasp a freezing hand attached to a shivering man who falls and falls and falls again but always manages to fight the wind.
There is still fire within these frozen bones, it just hasn't found a way to melt the cold and grey.

As sure as stars blink when I close my eyes, the sun will chase stormclouds in frozen skies.
In this mental blizzard I catch my breath and hear echos murmuring in the darkness.

"Winter doesn't last forever dear child, and neither will this."