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Poetic T Dec 2014
I walk, I am a lone,
Limp feet lift upon dead ground
I jest this failing body
Onwards towards what is the end
"I carry my weight"
"I carry my bones"
I wish to walk upon those before
This road of the dead,
Is the only sombre thought,
But I walk on, I walk over,
I walk past upon those who
"Came before"
Billboards overhead, rest here
Is what waits upon those who
I carry on never faulting.
Then that moment  before, as all have stood,
"The end of the road"
"There is just barren land"
"This road of fallen"
"It is a road upon the bodies of the fallen"*
White tiles,
White dreams,
White bones
That my knees rest upon.
Tears of anger penetrate, for nothing,
As I succumb to this Road of death,
For I am but another few cobbles
For the next one too fall upon. To further this road,
This road of white covered in dust.
This road of hope within its white gleam.
"The road of death"
Has paved another slab on its
Passage to nowhere, but **death.

— The End —