Ending The Path Of Sorrow

Time melts into nothing, under the waking hour.
The profits consumed by the hands of doom are lacking all their power.
As embers turn to ashes and ashes into dust,
The moon reflects my sadness, much like a morning gust.
A sobriety to murder is all that I can feel.
As my life comes to a screeching halt, my soul within its wheels.
My mortal eyes are stained with the blood, sweat and tears,
With the crossroads I have ended with gore as old as years.
Life is an abyss that is waiting to be filled,
Yet overflows with blood from the souls that I have killed.
I contemplate the gallows as they silently await,
To end my path of sorrow, scorn and eternal hate.
The summer is as madenning as the final hour,
It reaps my soul to pay its toll and strips me of my power.