Ire, Of The Three Plagues Incarnate Poem by Spooky Mind

Tearing down all in his way
The largest army has nothing on him
This titan wanders where he pleases
Black armor clad he wields his axe

Once a proud warrior
Tricked to walk among the shadows
Now a fallen Puppet

Chaos incarnate
Father Genocide
The Axe-king

He will cut you down
He will eat your flesh
He will drink your blood
He will keep your skull
As his prize

Choose to face him in battle
And get slaughtered as cattle
Die and become his feast
Serve the colossus cannibal

Free will taken away from him
His hate is eternal he is Ire.