A Traveller and Death

A traveller travels on twisted roads
Not a speck of life in sight
The streets are strewn with slitted throats
Their blood flowing into the night

The traveller’s heart quails in fear
His strides faltering by the second
The weight of such a sight, he cannot bear
Truly, death is a force to be reckoned

And yet, on the traveller continues to go
Even when his heart screams at him to turn back
His footsteps ring in his ears with a dull echo
All he possesses, jingling in his sack

The trees beside him cast their shadows ahead
The moonlight his only guide
The branches resemble cruel hands overhead
And all that keeps him from running, is his haughty pride

The eyes of the fallen nation
Stare unseeing towards the stars
And the traveller walks on with growing trepidation 
Hoping beyond hope, that the perpetrator be put behind bars

Clutching his sack with shivering hands
He wonders what led him astray
Could it be that he had too many demands,
Or did he simply lose his way?

Daybreak is nearing
When the man drops beside a tree
It had happened, what he had forever been fearing
But at least he was finally free

And his blood mingled with that of every villager
While his body lays limply there
Over him, a figure clad in black shed a few tears
After all, no one, does death ever spare

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