Trudging onto the abyss

Raised on the howls of hollow hills

Their echos ring through ears

These weary souls of silence, now but broken and forsaken


Gutting through the forest

Stained red checkered shirt

Maddened on hands from meager might

Convinced by a belt buckle badge


On a purpose they no not of

Billowing bountiful birds afar

Swarm in songs of serenity

Seeing through sighs from slipshod splitters


The calm forthcoming

Dampens the worthless whistles of diseased dedication

Titan towers of temperament

Climbs ever closer to their inevitable radiance

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