The wind surrounds me,
A cold, harsh wrapper of nettles
That seals me up tight,
And takes me away
From the world, and everyone in it.
I shut my eyes
And stand stock still.
Maybe if I don't move,
The wind will pass over me,
Thinking me to be something
Free of life.
Something that cannot feel pain.
But I am lying to the wind,
For I do feel pain.
I can feel it everywhere,
Around me, within me,
Pushing behind my eyes.
Stabs of it sear my throat
So I can't cry out for help.
I'm sobbing, screaming, begging,
But no one can hear me.
I'm lost in my own world:
Confusion, frustration,
And helplessness.