The Hollow One

In the shadow of the gallows tree,

Where wind won’t speak and none dare see,

He walks the paths the guilty tread,

And drinks the breath of those long dead.

No eyes behind his tattered hood,

No blood, no bone, just ancient wood.

He hears the lies you thought were sealed,

And reaps what time has not yet healed.

He comes when the fire in your heart burns low,

With a whispering voice and steps like snow.

The Hollow One, the debt you fear,

He knows your name — and now he’s near.

The thief, the traitor, the silent hand,

All marked by fate, all cursed to stand.

No blade, no prayer, no iron gate

Can turn the course of shadowed fate.

He comes when the fire in your heart burns low,

With a whispering voice and steps like snow.

The Hollow One, the debt you fear,

He knows your name — and now he’s near.

You fed the dark and wore a mask,

Now truth arrives to end your task.

He speaks no words, he needs no plea —

Just silence, cold, and certainty.

He comes when your sins are ripe with rot,

For guilt is fire, and hell runs hot.

The Hollow One has marked your soul,

And digs your grave in ash and coal.