The stench of death draws me close,
Overwhelming my senses,
Shrouding my eyes with a deep lust.
I pounce on the leftovers of discarded
By Death
And tear the bleak carcass
With my greedy claws.
A black splodge on the tapestry of nature,
A mirthless outlier, the king of dead.
A pillager, I reign the fallen towns,
I **** His Garden.
I liberate the frail from the shackles of life
And let harmony seep into his creations.
Without me his castle of cards
Will reduce to ash and dust
And scattered shards.