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
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