of emptiness and torn flesh
i have not come to leave you yet
i will for always be inside.
the sorrow seeps, the weeping moans
my bone chance to overextend
for life itself is none too soon
the cost i brought shan't order me.
cross and alone
at long last he
the willow the only one
his shadow keeps
fraught up in pain the wormwood seeks
to swallow the truth, but never he.
sit down my friend
the deed is done
your coin is paid the morning comes
but not for you, your work is done.
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