Beneath the poisoned rain, where an ash fire twirls,
He waits, solitary, unshaken, as darkness unfurls.
The sky, ink and night, devours the horizon,
While in the shadow’s cradle, he smokes in abandon.
Nearby, cold and heavy, a silent magazine,
A metal companion with intentions unseen.
Under the fleeting shelter, he defies the void,
A specter in the mist, wandering, paranoid.
