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.