To r m e n t
Striking fear in all
Making the strongest warrior crawl
This shadow rider roams the lands
Blood red eyes and claw like hands
Once a proud warrior
Tricked to walk among the shadows
Now a fallen Puppet
Harvester of men
Collector of souls
The Necro-god
He will strike you down
He will steal your spirit
He will eat your soul
He will drink your pride
But he won’t let you die
Should you choose to battle him
Your fate shall meet with grim
Fall, and live on as his slave
A specter of his bidding, for hell you will crave
His soul lies dormant
All that is left is torment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem