• The air is dry and cold...

    Its bitter ice seeps down to my core...

    The wind blows with little whispers of death...

    The forest is silent as I run through...

    Nothing but my uneven and hash breaths...

    I keep running even as I begin to see black...

    Finally I trip; falling to the unforgiving ground...

    Wishing for everything, even myself, to disappear...
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