"A Murder in the Woods"

Walk the path of imperfection,

trip over the roots of sorrow,

drink from the river of heartbreak;

Yeah, you are still alive.

 

Barely breathing as you trudge,

crouching so nothing can see you,

reflecting on each insecurity;

It is your fault.

 

A safe light in the distance,

glowing with pleasure and freedom,

tranquility lies due north;

you'll never make it.

 

The sun begins its descend,

sleeping just over the hill tops,

lying a blanket of shadows over you;

this is it.

 

The final moments have inevitably come,

those gut wrenching times of fear,

regret pours into your skull;

as you fade into the darkness.

 

Your lifeless body lies,

not a sound in this forest,

just waiting till morning;

the next victim will come.