The Lost

How often do we realize

The lost are sought in vain

And those that loved the lost,

Now they live in pain.

The lost, despite their conscience,

Chose the way to go.

And now they walk in darkness,

In circles, going slow.

They thought the path they chose 

Was one leading to pleasure

And now, of course, they know

The misery without measure.

There is no turning back;

They forgot which way was forwards.

Hope is what they lack,

And the desire to go onwards.