End of the road - By Faith Ben

At the end of the road
No rope, no hope
All alone, none to phone
I cannot cope, without a home

No king, no kin
No doorbell ring
I’ve lost a wing
There is no win

The trial is done, all is gone
Off the throne, no robe to done
No clone of my bone
I only mope, in my zone

I do not kneel for I do not feel
My head reels, it does not heal
No zeal to squeal
This is real

Straightened my bed
Heightened my dread
No longer a guest
I am now a pest, in this nest

Night cannot send, it does not lend
Nothing to pend for I must tend
Nothing to mend so I must rest
It is the end.