The Wind
The wind,
Carrying away the command,
just before it's heard,
The Wind,
Whipping at my skin,
until I feel like I'll never be warm again.
Though the wind,
through the rain,
over the mountian,
away from my home.
I doubt I'll ever return.
I don't even know if I will survive.
The Wind.
Howling like wolves.
Pulling me further,
away from the life I knew.
The life I knew,
with my brother so sweet and kind,
with gentle breezes.
singing a song.
This wind
it is evil,
Hateful,
a murderer.
I don't know what picks me up,
the wind,
or someone else.
But I walk
and walk
and walk,
and walk,
and walk...
This is a poem about someone leaving their home as a captive. I don't know at what time, I just wanted to work on a story through a poem.
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