Our struggle lives on
our hands are bloody
every day
our orders are to proceed
every tired step
every lost soul
nothing matters
where are we going
with so much to regret
trough those infinite
barren lands?
Then, the whispers returned
then screaming
branches bend
crawling, scratching, tearing…
blindness
at the gates, standing
ignorant, afraid
oh, the judgement is due
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