The Beatterd, The Broken, The Dead

Along the road of tattered souls,
Venturing forward, no where to go.
No where to go, but straight ahead,
walking with the battered, the broken, the dead.

Among those who walk, walking alone,
The wind bites and sends a chill through your bones.
The trees bend and break, and then seem to stare,
Leaves on the ground, pain in the air.

Alone, you walk onward, your tattered past gone,
But scars, in and out, though you hide them are shone.
No where to go, but straight ahead,
Walking with the battered, the broken, the dead