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Desolate, lies the body of William
No one knows he’s there, but him
Erected a marker, on a whim
By light of a candle, growing dim

Full moon tilts his head and smiles
Knows about William, and his wiles
Certainly, not a man who beguiles
But, one with tribulations, and trials

A lonely grave, its marker shines
With no one there, to grieve nor pine
This unknown man, created a shrine
In his name, not yours, nor mine

Alas, poor William, no one knew
He left this Earth, for a moment or two
Now flies about, his mind askew
This count of darkness, his evil, true.


October Writing Prompt – And just like that he was six feet under

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