The Echoes of the Mile
Walk the echoes, hear their cry,The fractured tales of those
who tried.No truth remains, no road is
clear,The crooked path feeds on your fear.
You wear their burdens, the weight of loss,A shattered mirror of what they
crossed.Each echo burns, a splintered truth,A debt unpaid, a stolen youth.
The crooked mile takes what it can,Leaves behind a hollowed man.But in its grasp,
if strength remains,You’ll shatter chains, rewrite the pain.