Dead carcas's claim your eye's, questioning your fate through ghostly thoughts it plys.
Bringing yourself deeper the longer you stay- leaving the grounds becomes difficult
as they entrap you in grey. Reading the concrete oblong- seeing past comrades imparted in stone explicating to your hesitation that you wont be alone. Equivocation becoming slim, capitulation nearly over the brim, escaping this trance seems increasing dim, more likely to drown as upriver you swim.
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