| M O R T E |
| ~A FRIENDLY WARNING~ For those of you with weak constitutions, I suggest you skip this entry. It is as hard to read, as it was to write. * The face of death takes on many forms Of snout and hoof, of talon and horns Eyes like blood, demonic winged beasts With ravenous hunger, on life force it feasts Drops fall like rain, colored bright red Newly made wound hath festered and bled Dismembered body, new grave hath been made From the great beyond, all memories shall fade Lost little soul, in nothing can you trust Void of remorse, much malicious bloodlust Darkness abound, no light shall be shown The seeds of its fury hath already been sown Darkened disease, great taker of life Rouge tinted blade of a blood-rusted knife Breath of fire and poisoned fang The bell of the abyss hath tolled and rang You can run and hide though surely in vain It plays for keeps in its maniacal game Fear not of death is what they do say The reaper shall come for thee anyway. * |