The Crossroads

To the crossroads I did walk
Only alone may this land be stalked
From gallows tree I hung my neck
One of no past, an empty treck
Then I fell to ground of dust
Grasped strong blade of rust
From severed wrist my blood ran forth
A wailing wind from the north
Crimson mud became the road
Hallowed lonely sacred grove
Deep then I dug the earth
To destroy he of this birth
Breathing corpse cast into pit
In dirt buried, atop I sit
No mark left for he thus dead
No words thought, nothing said
Arose one of empty shell
Arose one who never fell
In four directions the crossroads lead
No I spoke, seek not the dead
Walk a path not yet seen
Into the wilderness, a new dream

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