Hollow bastard.
Made of nimbuses,
Most days.
Simply becoming transparent,
From one reality,
While exerting thy willpower,
Upon another.
Watching converging timelines,
Careful not to spook too early.
Slipping dimensions,
As fast as you can imagine new ones.
People like us,
Are cursed.
Don’t know,
How to run from our enemies.
Drawn to conflict,
Like moths to flame.
Existing between layers,
Drinking strength.
Consuming power,
Through suffering.
Hunted to oblivion.
Fie,
Ye who’d have my head,
Upon your wall.
Thy cryptid trophy.
I’ll gut you first,
Instead.
Well used to pain,
For sake of gain.
Hollow Bastard.
