To a Familiar Encounter

Upon the trail, leading darker to fear,
Malevolent sound unlike any you hear.
A grime of mucus of the bayou swamp,
Your feet contract with every stomp.
Yet purpose unknown you’ve come at last,
To source that grim, questionable, past.
And here’s the phantom, all shape, all form,
That reign your soul since you were born.


Art: http://exphrasis.deviantart.com/art/RelicTheory-417032338

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