Solitude

I create shelter,
alone
here in the woods.
My thoughts,
surmised,
as well as one could.
Those, that are drank.
Those, that are dreamt.
Antagonistic they are,
tainted,
self-pity, self-contempt.

A shell exists here,
warmed by a flame.
Not a person, not a man.
Worth,
replaced with shame.
Brooding upon losses,
the self, the past,
recension of the sacred,
upon feelings
that would forever last.
Animosity towards the future,
and all it may hold.
A refuge from influence,
a broken mind's attempt to grow.
Little remains to be said,
ever less to do,
no regard for progress.                              Why life? Why this?
Must I continue through?
The air itself bears weight,
a heaviness in the mind,
more to come,
unprecedented pain,
the end,
it is nigh.
Surely,
this is it,
No place left to run.
I'm done...

Or no.
I must continue true.

A novel route,
on the edge,
laid by those downtrodden.
Ignorance paired with every step.
Lessons have been learned,
never to be forgotten.
Trudging through the weeds,
the grime.
Aches,
not in the body,
but the mind.
"You must persevere"
But Why?
Nothing gained
with attempts prior.
Only chaos and lost time.
Life, dire.
There I have witnessed,
there I have been...
Now I ask,
A return to the dark is what I've earned,
but due to which sin?