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This is also an excert from one of my books, it is a huge part in the story. |
| (This poem is engraved on a stone one charector finds during the story) Rage; From it comes hate, From hate comes war, The war of the worlds as it were. Where millions of souls are cast Into ther own dark crypts. These tombs that spew hot ash and Melt the flesh Becon to them with their sinister songs Filled with dispair and torment. Torment inflicted by your own demons, Your own devils, This cruel twist of ironic horror. To be remembered not as memories, But as dreams.... nightmares of the gods. Your blood it smells, Your soul it seeks, Only this vast and foerlorn warning to guide you. Run That is all, Run To the Four Winds, To the Isle of Lost Time. But you will fall and You will perish. All die, no execptions, no favorites. There are no heros, There are no saviors. Only deaths will, Deaths sword, And your Blood. |