Feet bare and scarred, limp toward the edge
scabs pinch at tired flesh
skin of leather fights gnawing winds
trampling the barren land, where graves begin
The shoe fits this haggard beast
he no longer roams the church of priests
no faith is left, no judgement thrown
A mountain up, a cliff below
One item left behind in folly
atop the edge a haunted body
time can cut emotions thin
shadows linger where soles have been