Lizzie Roche ‘14
Winds
In a state of confusion
I wander these lonesome halls
Scattering the ashes of the past around me
But those loathsome ashes keep clinging to me.
Like inky shadows on a cold winter’s night
The bitterness and cruelty of this world thrill me no longer.
I cannot run away from the past, but,
then again
Why run?
Why not stand tall against the roaring winds of life?
Why not roar right back?