Pine Fresh



I can still see out

The world is out there moving

Nothing at all changed

There is a faint smell of pine

Where is this scent coming from



I can’t seem to move

There is numbness in me

Yet I still feel pain

It’s a wound of the spirit

An affliction that won’t heal



Tears have ceased to flow

A drop falls down from above

A faceless figure

Standing over me crying

Somehow the world closes in



The light is dying

To dark for shadows to live

I can’t see at all

Desperately I panic

I struggle but it’s in vain



Trapped in the darkness

Can this really be the end

Can nothing be left

Doomed to this small and cramped place

A pine box for a coffin