A set of red footprints
Have carved their way through to my conscience,
Laying claim
To this towering frame of afflictions
The hero has no weapon
They stride higher up
Into lunacy’s den,
Upright and unafraid
A set of red footprints
Have carved their way through to my conscience,
Laying claim
To this towering frame of afflictions
The hero has no weapon
They stride higher up
Into lunacy’s den,
Upright and unafraid
Keeping the world immersed in stanza.
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