I walk along a road,
An endlessly winding road.
Miles and miles with no end,
No shoes upon my feet.
I started to ache long, long ago,
My back holding in crumbling bones.
My head pounds with every step.
The air is hot and humid,
No rain in sight to cool me down.
It's like a desert out here,
Yet it is just a road.
An endlessly winding road.
A road dressed in all black,
Hard like the rock it is.
A single white line runs down the middle.
It signifies hope.
Or maybe the lack of any such thing.
Each step I take along my path,
The more heat spreads up through
My burning red feet.
I dream of something cold...of ice.
Something I could place upon my singed soles.
And maybe something figurative
For my singed soul.
Alas, imagination only goes so far.
My dreams crushed,
My toes on fire,
I sigh and continue down the road.
My road.
This long, endlessly winding road,
Which I have come to loath.
I know not how I even came upon it,
Nor if it is truly endless.
I know not if it will ever end,
Nor if I will ever be released from
This endlessly winding nightmare.
This endlessly winding prison.
This endlessly winding road.