Crumpled on the grass, unable to move.

A couple of holes and slight tears make up who you are in the moment.

The breeze tugs at your frayed edges yet you remain still.

Your holes and tears define who you are among the several dead and wounded.

Yet you are the only one that remains still.

You take in the breeze with ease and tranquility leaving the ones among you frantically going in opposite directions.

Yes, you're lifeless yet those tears and frayed edges create an illusion of hope of life after the cold.

It's almost spring and you wait there on the grass to see the sun again.

Seasons pass, holes are made, air becomes frost yet there is hope for another life to live.