Hunters come back to haunt
who doesn't exist,
his ghost is still penetrating
through her shallow mind,
for a thousand years of playing knives,
she left there, undesired.
She thought "that would be enough"
it would be his revenge or punishment,
her vial was empty but he was a bloodlust,
words could cut and anguish could be unbearable, but tears will run dry.
The days turn into dust;
those memories she recollect
if he is seem to love again
maybe, she will find her faith
and her place.
She lost in darkness with broken dreams
she knew, it will only leads her to death;
Why do people keep coming back
on those things they left behind?
