Ask

Ask.

The rain trickles down the fogged glass, the pitter patter of it hitting the window is melodic. As the glass continues to fog, the outside world becomes blurred and distant, the room that was one full of warmth and provided the sense of home; is now reduce to ice caravan. The failed attempts to restore the heat are dissipating, no..they are gone. The fierce wind that draws the heat away was once an ally, both heat and wind now work together, creating the perfect pressure to build the storm outside the window. Upon touching the glass, it shatters cutting into the soft flesh; a crimson stream follows soon after. It turns into an overflowing river, that fills an entire ocean; the salt seeps into the wound and is rubbed without guilt. Remorse or even the notion of wrong doing never crosses the mind; the two forces now aligned and clearly enjoying themselves. Leave behind a being with visible wounds inside and outside, and it's those wounds on the inside that cause the worst of pain and misery. It's those so called superficial wounds that draw out the most blood. The shell of a being now stands under the pouring rain, soaked to the bone, exhausted from the fight, and almost bloodless. Ask, why? Why now? Why has the foundation fail, why have the windows cave, and why have the forces, continue their way. Elements in motion, Emotions astray, ashes on the tray.