The ReapersA Poem by Vicarious Fieldoghealth is pretty good right now and with pc gone mad.. less people are dying.. thats a good thing right? no.. wrong, way wrong.. actually as youll read its a crying shame for someTemple of the ever-lost, Upon the green glade of hope, Through the eternal life theyve found, Someone must pay the cost
Shawl of the devil. Wasted power The death count is nil, On this very darkest hour
Decaying below, As they thrive on the surface, Out in the distance the caw of the crow Living, breathing unaware of their bliss
Drinking their tea and just waiting, As the power of death is fading. Faceless threat sitting stiller, Than the corpse of one time killer
Dormant scythes go rusty, The blood on their hands in crusty
The Reapers of Souls are bored, But not by their own accord.. Now their prey lives forever, Because the apes have got clever
Leaving behind those forgotten by time, Leaving them behind forever Scythes on themselves, sycthes on eachother For the once proud reapers..
The once proud reapers of souls © 2011 Vicarious Fieldog |
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Added on September 30, 2011 Last Updated on September 30, 2011 Author
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