Stareing at the Snow

Emma Robinson writes, I don’t know if I want to Know Im so tired I want to cry.

I don’t know if I want to Know Im so tired I want to cry. I feel the snow between my hands. I wonder how do I know its cold. Who told me? When it leaves my fingers tingle, why then is it caled cold and not burn. Up in the sky I feel small and alone but everyone surrunds me. I feel crazy alone but with others I feel normal. Can they supress us? I’m still alone. I feel sad but there is no reason. I feel hurt but no one has hurt me. I don’t cry because I fear no one will listen. I stare at my hands, I stare through my eyes. Oh, what is it like to be blind? I’m scared; I keep learning more truths. Why am I enlightend while everyone else stays blissful?No one though can know this, so I put on my smile and try not to let anyone see the tracks of my tears.