The people fell to a scourge
One day when
Rapture came

And the irreverent were left
A dead earth

The monarch of those left behind
Decreed a crisis state
Was at hand

For when the irreverent died
The souls untied
And were loosed in tangible dimensions

Factions arose
For the collection of those
Lost auras of the unworthy

So the currency of the world
After the pious had left
Were the souls of the neverdead

Letting the flayers fly
To kill and claim power
To consume each other

Forcing ascension
Unto themselves
By enveloping the weaker

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