Ekphrastic ghost
Galloping along the road
Crushing all that would oppose
Out of Hell, like those persued
Clad in none but the nude
Riding wind like the Zypher
The ecstasymakes him hyper
Freed from his anguish
No water could ever quench
his near skeletal body's state
Is almost to much to bear
Unknown of his own fate
"Perhaps," he thinks, "I should Grow Some hair."
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