Reading majic's journal

A tangent in thought has led me down a road that goes something like this...

I sit here urging to write,
I sit here humble in my plight,
I think about the wind outside -
and of the freezy cold,
and the warmth of my mind,
't is humbling in it's mold.

these rooms are empty -
it would seem,
with cobwebs strown around,
they give me the feeling -
that noone has listened -
to a bloody sound,
of the words in which I write,
of the thoughts I have tonight.