slowly trudging to a halt, i am fragile within,
flakes seem to softly caress the wind, before separating themselves from the fabric of my mind, and alighting as if on a cloud;
madness, distorted hungers feed the air around the county,
peace gives no death, and death gives no peace, strains of mind linger toward sanity,
rotten it lays, putrid from corruption, strainin for comfort, strainin it lies wasted and waiting for the next bounty to creep into its savage garden