As we drew closer to the abysmal highway
We stopped by a winery
And I found myself asking
"Is this a cemetery?"
Which is poetically ironic
Because  I imagine my former self
Is buried somewhere in that vineyard
Fore I felt the ghost of who I once was eerily imminent
Among the grape vines that reminded me of skeletons
Barren and desolate
But ripe with possibilities
For a better tomorrow