The Necromancer III
A product of regret and shame,
Traveling on broken paths, stained by sin.
Spreading sickness with each conjured flame.
Crimson dust, cobalt cosmic skies,
The endless black prolongs the harvest.
What is a shadow lord without his endless darkness?
Has thou not earned haunting spirits?
Malicious intent lurking over thy shoulders,
Cloaked in a facade, the decaying heart lies.
Not even in slumber will you know peace.
Such power is wasted.
Rituals to fuel this poison,
Undead militia, this pitiful bone brigade.
No matter how many gather together—
Worms are still worms.
Must this always end in violence?
There is nothing left.
Summon your perfect solution.
Alone in darkness, yet you crave a kingdom.
What do you have to say?
Tell me in worm words.
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