The fear before the march of flames.
Cities and civilizations are helpless and leprous.
The red-limbed angel seizing in horror
the last trumpet of doom.
A monstrosity unto the lord.
The healty are secluded and the loved propagated
leave them as a branch to be burned.
I strave the gardens of wisdom,
became filled with grave...
burning from the funeral pyre.
But a dying fire, embers glow
atop the splintered furniture, the mangled.
Gasoline and matches to a lifetime ablaze
with a ticket to hell, bury you into a majestic dowfall.