A lone woman mourns, amongst the withered forest,
Surrounded by the dead earth.
Skeletons line her path, lifeless and unmoving.
Slowly, even they aged and crumble into ash.
Melancholic, sitting alone on the edge,
When the water flowed into the inky-black darkness.
Fresh corpses are carried by the currents; Young and Old.
She guides them along the way, down to the abyss.
When they couldn’t cross, obstructed, attracted to the shore,
She prods them along, sending them on their way.
Once in a while, a flicker of life would manifest in one of the dead.
The mind barely alive, compels him to hang on,
Fighting against the waves.
His body suffering immensely and burning in anguish-
Is this hell? How-
She looked on, sombre,
Caressing him in her embrace,
Taking away all the pain.
Her soothing voice, clear and sad
Resonated deep within, almost... grieving.
It touched him through the silence of darkness,
Granting him relief from his earthly burden.
In repose, his struggles ceased,
As he drifted away into the eternal dream.
Closing his now-still eyes,
Another name has been carved upon her lugubrious heart,
Fresh and bleeding. She's used to the pain,
The wingless Angel sends him on his way,
To meet his Fate, free... of pain.
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