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Feb 2019
Distant lands call me;
Crying for my return;
Like a prodigal son returning home;
Bringing the glory of a fallen kingdom;

Evil has possessed the hearts of brave men;
And hope is only a dim light in the sky;
Fathers lean over their children's ashes;
And the crows pray before their next meal;

But all this hurts me like thorns;
My home has turned into a mire of hate;
My family is already lost in memories;
And I'm alone with the demons;

My brown cape rocks in the strong wind;
My eye reflects the sight of the troubled flames;
My sword is pointed at the darkness;
Challenging her for a dance between cut and emptiness.
Watcher
Written by
Watcher  19/M/Brazil
(19/M/Brazil)   
361
 
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