Outside Air

Did anyone care?

Cold mist surrounds 
skeletal finger-like trees.
The fog of the forest 
begins to suffocate me.

There were mallards here one day
many months ago.
There were trees with leaves of green
and buds that blossomed slow.
The water was black
and frigid cold
but their green heads ran dry.
Their wings would flap
and on they'd go
to touch the midday sky.

In nights so cruel
away I'd flee
to catch some outside air
with ambition's fuel
it's still harder to breathe
within these conditions unfair.

There's so many faces
from frozen to fat
so it's hard to remember that they
speak uncaring phrases
reminding me that
the world doesn't want to be saved.