Blinds drawn

Cut

by shards of darkness, alone

in freezing, cold nights

Waiting

for life to take its destined turn

As endless time meanders

through the deep, dark

valleys of fear,

Illusions

of happiness shatter on

hardened anvils of the real

Colours mix into an ashen gray

Dreary

tracts of the never taken path

beckon with sarcastic glee

sapping at the root of all

Energy

withering away, the last remnants

of what once was

nurtured with much hope

Questioning

the very essence of my being

its existence in doubt

of itself.