In My Eve of Questioning

Thoughts are always running through my head, whether good or bad. No matter what, I analyze things. It can be a good thing in some cases but a bad thing in others. Once I get a thought into my head, I can simply not get it out again. The wind of thoughts breathe down my neck; no blanket to keep me warm, and no heater to warm up the air. The coldness of thoughts surround me until i'm at the shatter of death. Beyond compare i Know not what the Wind can do or how hard it can blow. Winter slowly poors in, yet my being is not ready. However, i do know that if the wind does not decease; my lips will get chap, my hands with grow blue, my ears will turn red, and my body will grow numb. At a hastening gesture, my body will freeze until every syllable out of my lips are spoken or until every breath is taken. All I know is that the Eve of thinking and the beginning of new questions have begun.