Sullied Rose

Sullied Rose

I stood before a man who desired
To examine the thorns of my rose
So I let him
Impaling them into his eyes

How dare he desire
How dare he question me
A shadow
A god

I am almighty, and he is a peasant
He deserved his wish
To see my rose
What a fool he is

I burned him down
Like villages before
He was less than an ant
On the underside of my boot

Parents told children
The whispered myths of me
As I walk the frontier
And take all the light I can

My rose is hungry
It must be sated
The darkness of thorns
Will reign unabated

Every knave and plebeian
Will feel the burn of my rose
As it devours those I mark
And poisons all my foes

Now I kneel over the man
As his screaming fades
His light draining swiftly
Blood seeping outwards

What a sight it is
Looking at a man, no longer
He is weak and deserves his fate
Soon those like him will bow to me

Then his mouth emits nothing
Face locked in silent agony
The sight no longer disgusts me
It’s the burn of a flower’s feast

For now I take and sap light
Wherever I can find it
The rose perpetually hungers
And I must feed its sullied thorns

More will fall
More will die
More to slaughter
And kingdoms to leech

I present it proudly and impale
The foundries of light soundly
As I raze the Earth’s denizens
For the sake of my wicked essences

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