Barren

A blind man sits in an empty field.

His children have left him, hes growing old.

The land that he owns will no longer yield.

All of his possessions he has sold.

The grass browns dying at the ends of his feet.

He’s used all his chances, end of the line

The woman he loved he’ll no longer meet.

She left him after he squandered their time.

Hope has left this place to fend for itself.

He sits there endlessly, sightless and worn.

His howls of despair only reach those in hell.

The mind of the man is ravaged and torn.

Happiness lost, sanity forgotten.

This barren land gives not a shred of cotton