° | May death due me part | °

Wind, it is just mere moving air, something that even a child can create. However, I cannot feel it's gentle sway, whether it be deadly or full of life. For where I rest is dark and confined, null of light. I cannot hear the laughter of another or the sounds of a river. The joy that once overflowed from me has dried, as the only sound that accompanies me is my heartbeat.

With its constant rhythm it reminds me I still live.

What a cursed sound.