mental health · poetry

Winds of Change

As I sit still in cold uncertain silence I hear that all too familiar whisper.
At first it starts in the distance, just taunting me with its feint malicious sounds.
But each day I can hear it getting closer, creeping up on me, taking pleasure from me not knowing when it will strike.
Until eventually I can feel it echo in my very being making me feel evermore restless and uneasy.
Here comes the wind of change again.
I know all too well I cannot run, cannot escape.
So in submissive acceptance I turn to face it and all I can muster up to say is,
‘What are you going to take from me this time?’

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