A Fetid Simulacrim

Passing, I heard crinkles beneath the loam
On dust-laden moors where the silent crawl
Of charnel life now fat in the decaying fall
As the skyline draws out the fading gloam

Heels, digging in, scrape at the once white stone
Tanned and matted between crisping leaf-life
Tapering on with a vague sense of strife
Harsh, dragging out, like shards skin and bone

And the sight brought a dusk-like dawn to me
In the eye-like sockets that could not see

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