Lights-camera-action

Cold winds tickle the trees

As light snow falls quietly

On the leaves of an evergreen

Forest

Grass falls as the storm grows

Winter whistling its bitter,

Freezing songs

 

tink tink tink
Standing outside
The harsh,
Cold wind
Rushing through my soul
And cutting into wounds, 
The ones you can't see
And I start crying
Trying to hold back the tears
But I can't
And they come ,

October.
Already?
It still feels like winter.
The orange of the pumpkin
Looks like the sun
And reminds me
You don't know it's fall,
Because you never saw the summer

Suddenly
I am riding in a rickety carriage
Full of other prisoners
Who are all enduring the same pain
As I am

And the sun
Is hiding behind a cloud
A cloud that covers the whole sky
In a blanket of 
Black

I wonder

If inanimate objects sign up for jobs

Maybe heirlooms

Get the best jobs because they have something treasured,

Like Experience

Getting passed down from hand to hand

But I doubt this

Because

Identity is a huge part of our lives, because it makes up everything about who we are and how we move about the world. And part of our identity is where we are from.