EpiciniumA Poem by WildWriter2600Aftermath of war.Along the labyrinthine rail, An arctic darkness rise, Putrid remains and shattered bone lies... In the wake of that antique war, All elation dies. Dry and desolate is this land, After the Devil's acropolis erect. King of aught am I, This ravaged world remain.
© 2013 WildWriter2600 |
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