My feet are cold and caked with dirt. A light shines above me. No, it's not the bright light at the end of the tunnel. I didn’t die, I didn’t try to kill myself either. I’m not that worthless. The bark of the trees is rough and wet. It tasted like paper, like really wet paper. The leaves, the 10 leaves in the whole forest, are dead and shiveled up like a pillbug. All around me the smell of new life and decay waft. With the wind they move and every time I breathe in the smell changes. The fog is heavy and I can bearly tell when the sky starts leaking. Like fat tears they hit my face. The sky yells with anger and flashes dangerously. I know its not anything to worry about. The sky is just mad. The sky is like me.
Wrath. I fling myself over the side and batter at the walls and floors. My sound is a scream. Sad and salty. Howling and crashing. Full of pain and redemption. I taste the blood of someone. I don’t know who it is and I don’t care to know. Thick ropes try to stop me in my path but I push trough causing them to frey, later they will snap but I’ll save some for my later rage. I’ve been angry for some time and now I’m letting it out. They try to fight me but I hit back harder than they ever can. I rock and through it too and fro. Then, soon as it started, I calm. I cry, letting the wind howl with my voice. One fowl screach, angry and sad. My tears fall down into me and onto them.