And I witnessed an aphotic sky
Stars plunging - or was it evading?
The wake of a white, wild demon of a steed ferrying an ornate, golden berth. 
Its sinister coachman cackling as the cavalcade stays its course -
A continuous convolution. 
This is damnation. 

He stood, cold and damp on a mid-summer's eve. Sadly striped shirt, worn shorts too big for his frame, brother's boots covering threadbare socks. That classic little boy haircut just covering his ears. His backpack carried ten dollars and a peanut butter sandwich. Clinging to his teddy as the taillights become smaller. Litter on a desolate road... 

He drops his head and shuffles into darkness.