Running through rain and ash,
On my arm a bloody gash,
I have gone to hell and back,
Carrying and message sack.
To gods above and below,
Through ground so hollow,
Through air so noble,
But today,
I sleep in traveler’s hay,
As I wait for my drop off,
My driver scoffs,
I look up at him,
He smiles,
It took me awhile,
But his hood black; his smile bleach white,
Death has come to dinner tonight.
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