The wind howls to the echo's response,
waiting to be called out.
The blinded meek fades in paleness.
No ones there,
by never ending darkness.
Scorching wind makes it hard to breathe.
Hearing is all that is left to believe.
Lame legs refuse to ever move,
did hope move me to buy shoes?
Divided arms increased my limits.
Take my hand,
before I forfeit.
Distant voices whisper in my ear.