As i walk outside
and close the door,
I slowly pace
up and down my path,
I flick my ash
from my cigarette and
it gently falls like snow.
Its where i go to ponder,
life and some of its beauty
and by some i mean not much
and by not much i mean there is none.
For me atleast,
There was but it has passed.
Should i recover
i will not be the same,
but i will have seen through
this darkness.