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The nature of me,

It brings you misery.

Through ancient woods and whispered trees,

I roam; a Spectre, born to feast.

I'll kill to see its face.

The face of horror;

The face of a curse.

Leaving me to mourn and weep,

Unyielding a gnaw on despair.

I am in hell.

I call it home.

I black out the sun,

For you to give up on me.