I care not for the solitude of the grave
So I walk among you today
'Tis the season to beware!
I am the body you drove for days to see. My collar
Soaked with holy water, burning scars into my neck
Like the rope burns in yours.
I apologise for that.
My face, covered in holy mud, hides my bleached pallour
And those haunting grey eyes you sometimes told me
That you loved so much.
When Death was king, I ruled well, and everyone was happy.
Except me.
Now I take little comfort with having your dagger
In my back. But as long as you are alive and happy,
I will be content in the solitude of the grave.
Honest.
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