the demon pass

Believe me when I say this walk is lonely,
the road is dark and night is cold,
my eyesight is not what it used to be,
and I have not listened to what the trees told.
My pain is in my footsteps,
where below the earth cries out,
the leaves fall off the branches,
and sway with shrills and shouts.
Torment the lone wanderer,
with ghosts of ghoulish pasts,
and the night grows darker yonder,
below the demon pass.