No false-hope for momentary revival
Pained pink hills over blue-veined tributaries
Paths etched, crisscrossed trails over mountains,
Through dips of valleys,
Soot, jagged-tipped, hide-ripped peaks,
Dotted with sunlit imperfections,
Weary roads taken,
Indention of past bands
Imprinted on the fourth peak slope.
Ghostly shadows lie underneath the new alloy,
Shadows of a daunting apparition
That wont let go of its grasp.