Silent is the listener
Still to the soul
Her tired tip toes
Tread the turf
Her shadow lean,
On silhouetted ground
Her fingertips caress
The crisp edge of blank,
Her muscles tense
Swayed in harsh whispers
Her mind is numb
An unconscious barrier
But still they conquer
The helpless hope
The grotesque twisted terror
That worms its way in
And clings to her mind
Under her skin.
The Dead Marshes.
The dead marhes through the eyes of a child who witnessed it. Though it may be your initial reponse, please keep in mind that it is not based off any real characture from Lord of the Rings. I made this one all up. Please comment.
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