The wind is strong,
and the sun is warm.
Over in the shadows,
the creature takes form.
His eyes are huge,
fierce and cold.
His fingernails are yellow,
the creature reeks of mold.
The smell of decay,
lurks all around him.
He steps on the remains of children,
the creatures full of sin.
REVISION (Or a start at least)
The wind was warm and had a musky smell.
The sun was covered by clouds and cast a dull glow.
In the shadows of the woods,
A figure starts to take shape as he steps out of hiding.
His eyes are bright blue like the ocean on a clear day.
His fingers are long and think like walking canes, and his nails a decaying yellow.
The wind carries his scent. Stronger now, moldy.
His skin is soaked with the smell of death and decay.
He steps on the remains of children from past cities he's been.
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