Week one of inktober
Sitting as the wind shreds my skin
While I wait for anything to happen
No one to talk to, no one to hold
Alone to face the bitter bite of cold
The moon shines its friendly light
It will outline things that try to hide
Even the mightiest king will one day grow old.
Demons come in all shapes and forms, with multiple faces or horns. But they can all find a place inside of anyone.
I now hold the key to your heart.
Lesson for this one: Drawing perspective freehanded is hard
Not all treasures are worth getting. Will you take a chance with this one?