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The Black River

The place that once was a river,
Became a blood-filled swamp,
It devoured the deep darkness,
With the wrath of the deads.

The resentment, indeed it is a dangerous one.
The river of blood, where the stench of the victims killed centuries ago rises,
has the face of hell, but it belongs to the living world.
I can feel the hatred toward humans from the foams and the waves.
Still people are being missed in this river.
The river adds blood to its own.

It offers good fishing.
That's the human's resentment.