Buried beneath the thoughts that have fallen like snow all this long day, hidden behind the icicles that were once tears, he hides in a home that is still warm, that is still whole, that is still filled with arms that long to hold him.
He will live. He will persevere. But only if he will let the blizzard of bad ideas go, only if he will open his eyes and see what is actually before him, instead of what he imagines is there.
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