I'm lost in the never-ending pit of my own confusion

Swaying left to right

Held up only by the wind blowing me to and fro

If only my feelings would make their opinions known,

But they long to remain hidden among the whispers of the swirling breeze

I attempt to stand

Only to be knocked back to the dust

Which leaves mt dizzy and disoriented

If only the whirling tempest would cease to throw its fiery darts,

But they fail to notice me calling for a ceasefire

So I am left, lost and atray, on the cold ground,

While the gusts continue to becloud the world around me.