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A whisper skitters through the trees
and the darkness approaches cease.
The cold dew glimmers in the morning light,
as a nearby hawk opens flight.
A drop of dew splashes onto your face,
your eyes open to shake the moisture away.
A moment ago the world was not a place,
but suddenly is reality the moment you wake.
You feel nauseous, and you wonder why you've come,
but you've done it now, you're on the run.
Memories are just something that make you wince,
and you remember that you pride yourself more in what you don't remember.
You've tried to forget ever since
Years ago, in mid-November.
You know that people lose fingers and limbs every day,
and you've only lost pieces of your soul, you took the easy way.
You can't decide if your pain is justified; it is pain nonetheless,
But, oh, how the wind whispers your name is endless.
Stop kidding yourself, you're here for something that's kept you from the brink.
Without it, you might not even have a reason to be...
...but that's just what you think.
You love to gain wisdom from words that have been spoken for many years...
...but the best words, I'd be willing to bet,
are the ones that haven't even been written yet.