Is the first thought,
that is on my mind.
I can feel the heat,
rushing from my wounds,
into the freezing winter, air.
The wounds start slowing me down.
My now dry, parched throat,
keeps me from screaming.
My legs feel rooted in the snow.
I stumble,
and fall to the ground.
The snow under me starts numbing my body.
I pour some snow into my mouth,
and let it run down my throat.
I lather my body
with snow.
Letting the coolness,
overwhelm me.
I get up,
and brush the extra snow off.
I walk off back to my destination.
My wounds are gone.

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This Poems Story

It was a little life lesson that anyone can heal if they really want to.