Again, again, again.
Closely following the fine line
Between dreary darkness and sandy beaches,
But at the end of the shore
The forest will continue to stretch,
We're not out of the woods just yet.

Gloom shrouds the sky-
Faint sunlight tracing the casket in the clouds,
The sharp winds of age swallows up the offered youthful pup,
And spits back out mutilated, wrinkled flesh, a pile, a worm,,
Nothing that one would ever yearn to see,
Nor what was expected,
It sure is horrific.

Hollowed roots can't squeeze enough water from the branches,
For as much as they drip,
Every drop becomes poisonous seeds,
As it puddles haphazardly atop the woodland floor.

Inanimate, emotionless?
The heart of a doll.
**** to live long
If it weren't for eternity.