Standing here
on this lonely dirt road.
I tell myself
I must keep going,
fighting,
pushing away the deafening silence
that is slowly enveloping me,
drowning me.
A dog barks from the south
as I'm standing here;
waiting.
Snow glistens
on the ground around me,
frigid and wet.
Is anybody going to come for me?
The sun is going down now.
Probably only two hours of daylight left.
I'm almost to the point of apathy,
when a rumbling in the dirt floor
gives me a tincture of hope;
A hope that I don't have to wait anymore.
But I have no choice.
As I look
into the dense trees around me,
I get lost in my own perfidious thoughts,
wondering.
Are they ever going to come?
It's getting cold and lonely.
Yet I'm still standing here,
fighting, waiting, wondering.
But why?
This is pointless,
no one's going to come for me.
I am alone.
No one cares.
