Lost Girl

In a room, in a chair; she's in a puddle of gloom.
She's trapped in the darkness,
she's staring down her doom.

When she looks out of the window all she sees is gray and black.

She can't distinguish shapes; they move in and out of focus.

An attack.

Sometimes the wind whispers.
Sometimes the wind howls.

It haunts you when your weak.
It makes your eyes go bleak.