Underneath a blanket I hide,
from the strolling demons outside.
For once I thought I could catch a light,
Which would lead me right,
But soon that thought disappeared,
As I drowned in my own fears.
Would I survive?
Could I abide,
To the wordly laws I had left behind?
Thousands of questions take over my mind,
Storms I withheld ready to rise.
I curbed myself with beautiful lies,
Protecting myself from the cold outside.
The Storm will soon be over,
But I am more worried about the leftovers...
© aastha1907