The grass beneath me,
Reminds me,
Of the carpet I once loved.

Why did I run,
When I knew,
There was nothing left for me,

Wherever I went?

The Trees look down on me,
The squirrels look down on me,
There is nothing left.

No hope,
No joy,
No pain.

Just,
Nothing.

Is this the end?,
I found my self wondering,
Plucking a blade of grass,
I wonder;
What future did we ever have?