I'm so tired of looking out the window The crisp white, twinkle flakes engulf the meadow and mist forms around my mask, I gotta ask, Are these my last moments on this earth? Will it be of any use to launch this flare? to move out my numbing frozen bones like heavy stones across the metal shear planar floor of the helicopter. I should pinch myself, then again, isn't the pain of frost bite a part of my reality, the pilot hangs on cables off the edge as if beckoning gravity. He broke through the shattered glass, metal slicing through my right calf, moments fleet, pass I should launch this flare at they'll find us, under deep layers of snow Maybe I'll bloom in the spring with mushrooms covering my skin akin to fur on the polar bear. I'm so tired, I'll close my eyes and rest a bit, I'll figure it out after the stress lifts yeah, I'll sleep, for a bit, just a little bit.