End of the Road-poem

A worn down road,
full of dust and holes.
The feet of many,
have passed this way.
Moving forward,
falling and getting back up.
The torn clothes lay strewn,
hanging and fluttering from the trees.
The blood of millions
stains the ground,
from where those before
had been hurt.
The smell of disappointment
lingers in the air.
And the path twists and turns,
around many bends.
Never knowing where it goes,
the forks come from nowhere,
Ssme are more worn than others,
and some never tread upon.
All lead to a final destination,
but you never know where,
till you reach it.

It’s the end of the road,
and the millions who went before
are waiting to embrace you.
At the end of the road,
the blood and smell of failure ends.
And the love spreads,
at the end of the road.