The Hunter's Lament

The hunter rests on frozen soil
Hungry, he concedes defeat

He seems lifeless with closed eyes,
Too numb for pain and too tired to dream

The lethargic, empty shell of a shattered man
Fading in the ashes of prosperity

Stench of death is stale in the air
and The Plague festers in his memory

He is a parasite without a host;
he is no one

All hope has died in this season of grief,
So he waits for the bane of life to dwindle
 
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