A poem based on one of many, many possible paths in life.

Don't worry, everything's fine! :D

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He crested the hilltop slowly, his energy seemed all but gone.
Each step was mechanical, a simple motion along a simpler path.
Forward he trudged, looking neither left or right on his silent sojourn
And he took this trip alone.

He observed nothing, he simply walked on.
Once atop that hill, it mattered not. His mind,once whole, now half.
There was nothing left for him, or so he thought, his life – and hers – he scorned.
And there he was, still alone.

His eyes hollow, his jaw, hard-set, on a face where it didn't belong.
Down again, the weight he bore, towards a stream, white water's wrath.
He saw it there, his only goal. The fast waters along its simple shores.
He found it all, yet alone.

He walked along its shore a while and listened to its rushed song.
It carried itself, not a care in its world. It course, its own powers clapt.
He stood up high upon its rocks, worn smooth, yet still pebble-scored.
He watched as it foamed, alone.

A hand withdrew a withered rose, once wound tightly on a thong,
It strained and snapped, its dried, decayed stem was pulled free from his cloak's strap.
He held it before vacant eyes for a moment, and over nothing mourned.
And once more he felt alone.

A tear formed along his cheek, then rolled down his face, once strong.
He thought of what might have been, a life that he once would dare to grasp.
Another moment, he could hold it no more, the thought of one he adored,
And the rose, it floated on alone.

The tear that had fallen had all but froze, his heart was now cold.
From the mists, a dark, black wolf followed, its eyes, dark red, they glowed.
It stood next to him and howled its evil cry into the night as the sky went dark.
He reached down to the wolf and felt his strength return.
“He'll never leave me alone...”