Message from a Necromancer

Hear the voice of my despair
They have pleased me
Their soul runs cold with the touch of uncertainty
And their mind strikes a vivid cord of bitter reality
Let them play the instrument of blasphemy
For they are my children of the dark

Meet me in the hellfire realm
They have intoxicated their mind
As my legion against the refined
And their lust bring them to search and find
Let them drink their spirit out of my wine
For they are my men of the dark

Young and old
I care nonetheless
They follow my every need
I harvest the souls like one harvests seed
And they harken onto my words as I am who lead
Let them teach and let them read
For they are my followers in the times of Armageddon!

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Writing is the magic of the mind.