End Woes

Sand woes, oh my sand woes
This life of mine I grew and chose
The violence to the past it throws
now voices of that pain echoes

I've felt my woes
I've held them close
Have you seen the putrid prose
That states my state of pallid pose

Woes and woes, oh my sand woes
I feel this empty life dispose
Of my existence
Time, space, close

The entrance to all kindness shows
An empty space between two groves
One is fetid, one with rose
One is dying, one still grows

Crying, sobbing my heart now knows
But late too much I chose
My punishment does now approach
Lacerated from heart to toes

But roots of mine now have arose
This garden behind me with its crows
I walk toward new golden rows
And leave behind these old sand woes.