I am the hollow one I play my part so well. Marching through fetid pools of unending swill. Pale light seeps through branches In my bog of unwilling cadavers. My home, my solace, my glorious decor. Scraping fresh innards on earth trodden floor. Disregarding my past endeavors Their manican eyes do stare. Blindly they follow me amongst the trees. Deaths stench doth fill the air. I exercise my right to salvage. Those I deem unworthy to live. With these instruments of death in tow. I throw you with the rest down below. Piling the scraps of sultry remains To the bed in which I lay. I dance in gleaming puddles of crimson with my warm atrocity. As I grow tired of my soon rotted friend. Their trickling entrails engulfing my being..It's time to join the rest in this grove. Countless old friends. I've laid to rest In my beautiful garden of flesh. Only is second to my lust for more of the new intrusion of fresh blood. The ache in my skull forces me to dismiss the meat. Now venture forth to obtain a new seed to plant. This eternal bloodlust that drives me forward. Will one day be my undoing. But now I must frequently feast.
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