The night comes feeding with its hungry wind.
Strangulated with darkened shadows longer than yesteryear.
When phantoms of long ago were feasting.
Bringing their tapestry of bones.
Revealing the tempest of harsh storms.
Sailing on the ghost ship of ultimate fools.
Tolling against the raging of time.
My footsteps reminding me of the fears I have not lost.
Silently the echoes still remain.
Groping in the dark void.
Only the reapers shroud will comfort my death.

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