Slain in Vain

Slain in Vain

Never wondered life would get so pointless.
How the fire within burns out, you can never guess.
The colors are gone, the bleakness remains.
Deep they went into the waning gut of unending pain.

I sit in my loft, swirling my pen, pondering.
Of those odes and ballads that I would never sing.
You don't do that when your soul has been slain.
The trail that I set on is lost, it was all in vain.