Gestures wild and uncontrolled,
The wind that has blown in
Is wild and lonely and cold,
It sits around my house and in my head,
Moaning and groaning and crying with dread.
It pains me and in blood and in the darkness I fall,
But I will never hate this wind; my rainfall.
I will cherish this thought,
As it kills all my dreams,
Because through the screams and the horrible sobs,
I can still her the wind, even as my head throbs-
I can still hear the original, that came before the windfall.