Walking Out Alone

The cold winds are just as cold as ever,
It shows no difference either.
We walk and walk hoping things of terrible sort,
Will just clear itself off, but it just proves us wrong.
No matter what we think, the ghostly feelings blink,
their eyes of misery upon us.
We close our minds to thoughts like those,
but of course they appear in front.
Their deathly pallor eyes staring out at us,
through the clear evening mist.
Just reminding us of what, might as well have been,
Dark, black, eyes which show simply of nothing but doom.
But, we still walk out alone, always hoping for the best, but return with no hope, left at all,
that is the worst.