Winter
A tormenting wind embraces me and white flakes cloud my vision, everyone tells me I should stay but I'm already leaving.
The branches of the trees gave me their hands to guide me and I lost them on the way, will this be the moment to start over?
Shadows of the past are haunting me and the light of the present looks dim. I need a map of the future and I only find papers with addresses, which one of them is correct?
Disappointment and lies are taking my ankles, they hold me fiercely so I can't disappear.
They say I should go back and wrap myself up but my body is already boiling. Heat does not exist in the middle of winter, but it burns me inside.











