Wayward,
The convoy’s descent,
Through the breathless hills,
The frozen riverside,
Amongst the wicked witch woods.

Howls of frost approaches,
Impetuous, callous tempest,
Beacon of catastrophe,
Sparks a menacing flare,
The ferocious force of humanity.

Beseech me if you must!
Though as harrowingly as it seems,
No abysmal depth in snow,
May conceal the end in mind,
Of these grimy hands of mine.