Fear the Old Blood
Oh foolish boy, why still you seek?
The paleblood, the dangers beneath
Hast not the Provest told you this?
Our eyes are yet to open, Fear the Old Blood.
Oh, hunter. Dear Hunter.
The last of the First
Fear the Old Blood
For horrors shall be known.
We are born of the blood
Made men by the blood
Undone by the blood
Our eyes are yet to open, Fear the Old Blood.
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Poetry for the Lost
Poetryjust a poetry collection with original compositions and personal favorites
