Throughout misty forest
you seek for spark of hope.
Your life held by
darkness thoughts,
anchor is
some place else.


Bad luck follows you
like a hook,
won't let you go,
won't leave you alone.


You smile today,
and cry whole eternity,
like that's your fate,
disturbing thoughts
to lie inside of you,
to take away everything
that you hope for.


Devil is calling your name,
leaves you not,
you don't see the angel on
your shoulder,
trying to give you a strength.


You long for life
that you don't know of,
you seek for peace,
trying to get away
from misty forest
that stains your heart
into black.

January 16, 1815

Journal,
    We have gotten fortunate, Journal! Nastea has found coats in the broken down train. She sits by Sasha now, covering her in them. And she took one for herself as well. I can see color returning to Sasha’s cheeks. Nastea coughs harshly, shivering nervously. Her toes are turning blue, and one has already fallen off. We slept in the train last night, getting as much warmth as we could. We have to start to move tomorrow, find shelter. The berries Nastea fed Sasha seem to have made Sasha a lot sicker than she was before. She’s coughing up blood now. The snow around her is stained with red and pink. I attempted to make a fire earlier, and let me tell you journal, it didn’t work out. It’s much to cold to start flames. For every time the fire ignites, it extinguishes, the harsh winds blowing it out. I’m losing my teeth, journal. Nastea can’t talk anymore, and her and Sasha’s hair is mostly gone. Journal, what’s happening to us?
    Bye Journal,
        Nadia