Blotched on my skin you fall.
Presenting my current mode of thought, I walk through you slowly.
Numb to the feeling.
I carry on.
Tune my focus to everything except myself.
I notice the sound of the wind, irregular and yet forceful.
My Footwear carrying the dirt of my travels, stains of the past and once washed it still remains.
Struggles to walk in that room and act normal.
Practicing facial features
Thinking happy thoughts
Gripping on to the umbrella for no apparent reason.
Blotched on my skin you fall!
At times softer than before.
Holding on to my umbrella? What for?
In thought, travelled without boarding a plane
I walk in..