The murderer :- A shell emptied of remorse
#WritcoPoemPrompt24
A murderer, they whispered...
With blood on his hand, as if it had dipped into sunset.
Staining them with a crimson dusk,
A tired fire flickering in the depths.
A face rough as crumbling stone,
Carved deep into the skin.
Bears a thousand-yard stare that reached
Not toward the horizon, but the abyss within.
His beard, hung long and unkempt,
A tangled forest of grey shadows, where secrets had taken root;
Somewhere between fear and defiance...
Wide-eyed, he stood,
Like a statue left too long in rain,
A cliffside eroded by years,
Etched with...
A murderer, they whispered...
With blood on his hand, as if it had dipped into sunset.
Staining them with a crimson dusk,
A tired fire flickering in the depths.
A face rough as crumbling stone,
Carved deep into the skin.
Bears a thousand-yard stare that reached
Not toward the horizon, but the abyss within.
His beard, hung long and unkempt,
A tangled forest of grey shadows, where secrets had taken root;
Somewhere between fear and defiance...
Wide-eyed, he stood,
Like a statue left too long in rain,
A cliffside eroded by years,
Etched with...