Prophecy

Ichor spilling from your veins
Drenched hands cast it upon ruins
Calling to ancient magics
Blessing us in its power
Making use of slaughter
Second sight granted
Enabling us to peer
Into unwritten history
Watching every last beheading
Every last breath gurgled in blood
I see the end as the rebirth of all
Indoctrinating those worthy
Of redeeming retribution
The fate of all
Trapped in the mire
Amalgamating to flesh
Making them part of its vast expanse
Feeling sense of self fade
Your death has ushered in a new age
We are one
Harvesting last sparks of life
To recreate in our image
Living every last second
Bringing it into reality
The crimson visions of my rule
An empire built on the spines
Of our enemies
Imposing wrath upon those
Who called for absolution



Credits
Writer(s): Bog Wraith
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