the destroyer, he comes,

in the darkest hour of night,

his blackened soul reeking

of famine and blight

his armor is rusted

his sword, dull and bent

there is little left of him –

his tabard is rent,

filthy, tattered and torn,

pierced with holes from the lies

he’s foisted on others,

ignoring their incessant cries

for “mercy, my lord – mercy”…

his eyes, once his great beauty,

now stare, milky and sightless

since he assumed the duty

of destroyer of lives…

no longer a human

no, not even a ghost –

just a sordid, lost nothing,

the devil’s newest  host.



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