The Woods at the End

In these woods I stand belong to me.
They’re burnt and barren as far to see;
The skies are dark and a storm is coming
There is no shelter for me.

It might be unwise to wait just a bit
But my weariness compels me to sit
As the winds pick up and the thunder rumbles
I cup my hands around to get my cigarette lit.

I’ve made too many mistakes while on my path
It’s plain to see and as easy as math.
There’s no time left and honestly I’m very tired
To face the stress, the hurt, the wrath.

These woods might not be pretty, green and lively,
But I’ve done my best and here is where I’d rather be,
And it’s time I lay down among the debris,
And it’s time I lay down among the debris.

‘Pain’ self-drawn