Dusk devours ground
Like a hyena devouring
A piece of carrion
Wind wipes the dark molded dungeon
You can hear a whistle
Among the trees
Thorny bush entwines
Forged cross
Dawn like a vivid glare
Rushes from the slabs of stone
On the edge
Of one of them
A root is searching for water
But it will fail to find it there
The wind is chasing
A faded leaf
It doesn't want to fall
It doesn't want to rot
But it is falling
No one will help

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