For the legs are unwilling and the mind has lost all hope
Between the qualms of love, longing, and then waking up to realisation
The sun shafts piercing through these boughs paint only desolation
A morbid fear is what the moss casts into pristine imagery
That reflects into my heart a sense of unfit and unbecoming
I had to be a light on the path of life for company to be passersby
And as the fading sunlight darkens these woods I struggle for light
This could not be more poetic, this fearless abandonment I seek
For I am only counting down to the days that I have set aside now
The only hope is to make it through these woods to the clearing
And dive into the valley from the cliffs of bindings thereof
If one shall find my bones, stuck on some shallow crevice
I hope it is sans flesh and the marrow may have nourished something
The last gast of air I breathe in and exhale shall be of contempt though
For all that I have lived and for no longer wish me another breath
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