Alone with my thoughts
in this breaking world
standing outside the broken glass
my feet to sore to walk
on this weary path of life.
Nowhere to go I stay
staring at the dangerous road
the miles and days of torment,
that lies before me.
Abandoning all hope
my withered feet cry out
to touch the cold water
that lies on the other side
of the path broken glass.
The relief is there ahead,
but mirages have come before,
how can this be true?
I do not see the worth
in stealing for the end of misery,
this sorry world holds no desire for me.
Why do I try with these empty dreams?
I think to myself,
and only to me,
that I do not want to go any further,
that this is enough for me,
this withering patch of grass,
is enough comfort for my torn feet,
and the glass will have to wait.
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