The wind's chill is a greeting so dear,
The city's voices below too distant to hear.
My body finds rest on cold, hard stone,
I heave a sigh, and the wind says I'm alone.
The thought floods into me, like a rushing tide,
Am I worth a damn and a dime by anyone's side?
I heave another breath, the eyes give birth to a tear,
As the heart opens its door to an all too familiar fear.
The wind wraps a breeze around me, like a friend indeed,
Offering a little comfort to a soul in need.
And as my eyes water, my gaze blurs,
My heart stops pounding, and the mind begins to stir.
A nail is like a person, when poorly driven,
It ends up getting stuck or the wood ends up broken.
And when the nail is weathered and begins to rust,
It's usually thrown away, much like hard-earned trust.
A hand is meant to hold another hand,
To take another from the depths to a faraway land,
And just as a hand fits perfectly inside another,
A puzzle piece that doesn't fit is meant for some other.
The heart is meant to pump blood to the veins,
But when broken, there simply will be no fuel for the train.
As the mind seeks to control and tame the heart,
The only thing it does is to break and tear it apart.
As I think, the tear flows down the cheek,
But neither thought nor soul held the answer I seek.
And as I stand and bid the wind goodbye,
I am the single piece of the puzzle that simply is awry.
Edited by MangJ90, 27 October 2015 - 08:42 PM.