My Darkest Days

He trudged wearily, along an old deserted road,
Reminiscing fond memories, many ages old
Of all those he loved, of all those he cared,

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None came forth, when he cried in despair.

For a few moments , he found alleviation,
The next instant t'was gone , a fleeting illusion.
Our weary traveller, tired and sore,
His countenance couldn't have seemed more forelorn.
                                                                             
His journey brought him to the edge of an abyss;
Drawing him close, drawing him in.
Dare he jump?
Was there anything to miss?

Our weary traveller, the poor tortured soul,
He sat by the edge, and let his emotions pour.
Once he was done, he rose from the floor;
He thought to himself "Perhaps one day more".

He rose up from the floor, mind filled with resolve
Away from the abyss he walked, toward a new dawn.