Devil

Empty are the streets,
not a thought to lean,
and nothing new seen,
as far as soul treats;

mind shrouded by wreaths,
hazy in a smoke screen,
wanders where none has been,
in the path devil greets;

silence, trots the one way route,
from darkness’ hold no escape,
dancing to the evil tune of flute,
ahead sets sail in remote landscape;

following noise from shadow’s hoot,
reached peak to don devil’s cape.

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