The man kept walking through
The trees as the darkness flew
Over him like a stark, black Raven.

He could feel the eyes upon him
As a curtain of silence swallowed
The day, and the evening spirits awoke.

Blood dripped from the willows
And muffled screams rose
From their tortured pasts.

The earth spins and the seasons
Go, but a feeble mind nourishes
The superstitions we fear the most.

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