Despondency

I have no sunset waiting for me,
Nor do I own a ride to ride off into it,
I walk in circles into my own selfish miseries..
I have no birds singing for me at dawn,
Nor do I own a reed to make my own music,
Only a voice singing distractedly..
like echoes that hide inside a mountain,
waiting for a call to call back to,
And the ring the valleys with their eternal woes..