The air is cold. My breath, warm.
Overflowing thoughts of what is and what was consume my being.
Though not wholly foreign, it remains unfamiliar.

Words unspoken, perhaps leaving me still feeling broken.
And this, I question.
This, I know.

Would it make a difference?
Would it translate to clarity?
Or would it cloud the mind even more?

Aches and tears, make me feel.
Doubts and uncertainties, make me fear --
Lest I forget that I am still here.


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