Hollow
The warm progress
glowing under the stars
like ruby red blood
flows from emerald scars.
We see in the distance
the veritable lanes
that drives the men
to winter’s bane.
The thieves rise up
and sack the town.
The color is tough
on the venerable clown.
You whisper in
through dawning time,
a figure relents
to a baleful mind.
Hollow.
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