Winter Wasteland

I step out into the winter of my mind.

Glancing around at the desolate architecture

Of walls with no doors.

Windows with no views.

Wrapped in sanity loose scarf.

I constantly beg for its touch.

My extremities crave its clarity and warmth.

The harsh chill of insecurity and doubt taunt me.

The frost of fear lingers in the air.

I expose myself to the elements.

The biting wind of change chills my static bones.

Forcing me to move.

The grey day is getting shorter.

I must find a way to make it over the frozen mountain of uncertainty.

I will not be a victim of my own circumstances.

The glow of resiliency lies just beyond the steel cages of my hypothermic mind

-Tosha Michelle

friedrich_cloister_cemetery_1817_1819

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