Empire of Ruin

Buildings burn in hell fire
Hail falls from black clouds
Innocent lips let loose
tortured screams of sick abuse

She sleeps. Like the dead
As if they’re granted any rest
Only waking to find a meal
Madame of the Grotesque

She feasts on the fears
of the so-called Living
reveling in the pain they feel
nightmares never felt so real

Water: dirty and polluted
wets the throats that’s squeezed
by the words of the voiceless
The Lesser, The Inept, The Teased

Laughter at the beck and call
of man. Malice met the pleas
No mercy, never spare a soul
who isn’t rich enough to pay the toll

She feigns interest in their woes
False promises of help and care
And they’re dumb enough to believe
That she will actually be there

She lazily licks the deceit
from her soft and supple lips
As she sits upon her throne
built of broken dreams and bones

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