Depressing poem Pt.1

I can see the final speck of fecundity 

Floating in front of my eye

Blindly I try and reach out 

But why do I even try?

All the work ahead of me

Seems to add thousands to my age

And the ink and tears dripping down

Create a battlefield on the page

Even a deviation from this endless cycle

Seems beyond my line of sight

And the only relief to grace my being

Comes from an unending darkness at night

Bad times are said to be a tunnel

And the light at the end is an end to the pain

But has anyone ever just tried to consider

That maybe, it might just be an incoming train?