The Damned

The Kings of the day

The Queens of the night

Bring tremors during May

And the reign of deadly plight

A feast is held descriminately

For successful deeds not their own

The poor watch feverishly

As they can only eat soup of bone

Thousands die at the end of June

The royals pay no mind at all

But, during a chill scarlet moon

The dead arrise at the start of fall

Thin to the bone and epidermis blue

They emerged from the unmarked lea

With eyes as red as a bloodish hue

The army marches slow and steadily

Down crumbles the relics and statues

As the poor are left unharmed

The rich are eaten and their pets too

Soldiers are shivering and locked alarmed

Flesh and limbs are torn indescriminately

As the palace burns into a mirage of Valhala

From the ashes, the poor rebuiled passionately

Then, they become lords--recycling the hatred of the

Damned.