Life with its eternal wheels decides to smite you down with experience and you age in wisdom. The mind grows heavy and your eyes look out with the weariness of an old women. The parts of your body have started to age unevenly and you look chaotic, like a child's caricature. Nothing in the world permeates your empty soul. You try playing roles, giving yourself ambitions, applying red rouge to look alive, making it seem like your walking the journey with all the reverence of a pilgrim. The burden of existence, when experience has taught you well about the parched wall at the end of the tunnel. You reach it and your skin crack like parched earth, slowly you cease to matter anymore and the smell of burnt flesh dies out. The earth receives you in her cradle and the trees sing their lullaby.