The Hunt
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blood between my fingers
the eyes of the prey, closing in death
the sisters moons taking the colors

I want to awake the wind

the dry shackles falling from my hands

stars beaming before my eyes

water staining my face

I lived too long to perish within the darkness

my soul alive as the fire in the heart of the wilderness

the last flame before the day

a shadow that devours the living

//   Article written by skekMal  //