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hoodlum Jul 2019
A specter follows me on the stone path.
Melancholy sings deep with the rain.
I pray that I may not slip on the wet worn path.
For the specter is merciless and cold.
He counts the sins of your past
And cares not for your penance
His mangled form is only familiar to you.
Comments? Critique? Criticism?

— The End —