Vines crept out of the brick trail like swindlers

Haunting shadows lurked, whispering wishful sins


Promises of protection enticed his selfish delights

And his soul, surrounded by the howling; that old melody of deceit

He welcomed the path of destruction, unaware of the coiling deceptions 


There were warnings, each hidden beneath his muddy footprints

Lingering like the promises he had broken long ago


His heart had enough, but his feet trailed forward

Crumbling, the path twisted as flimsily as his intentions

Decaying, he shrunk deeper into the depths of his memory


Dimmed was the reality he once knew, lit only by his left over life  

Steep was his hill of secrets, and he stood on the edge

One feeble foot forward was his fate 

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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