I walk into the darken woods, alone I went.
Being still and quiet, expect for a mocking wind.
Entering I longed for zen, only to discover I can't win.
There is pain which I can't mend.
Walking in the deaden woods, more alone I became.
The trees full of age and memory, things started to maim.
Void of answers I wained, still afraid to glaze on their remains.
In age, there's pain which won't refrain.
In youth, there is much mirth. But in age, there's a new birth.
One of error, only to produce much terror.
Time is up and there's not enough.
Knowing time will be up, I know it is a must.
It being the way of life, we will return to the dust.
No feeling, only much strife, the only path still is to rise.
Until death, this feeling I must despise.
Walking through the dampen woods, I'm not alone.
Trees dead and of stone, standing tall in this zone.
Remember, they too have their place, to show us more.
This is a state, which we all must face.
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