Legions of evil surround you
Grinding bones into dust
Caring naught about anyone
Their lives as slaves a must

The lash upon their backs
The pain it brings real
Freedom is not an option
Their scars are concealed

Legions of darkness surround you
Misdirection their way
A careful word, a half truth
Your thoughts they sway

The dance of deceit theirs
Never trusting or care
Everyone is a tool for them
As they are well aware

Legions of chaotic beings surround you
Creation their eternal bane
Warping, twisting, ever misleading
Are any of them really sane

They kneel before their Master
They lord over their corrupt rites
If they have their way at all
Creation gone, gone with the light

Legions of people surround you
Their lives with laughs and titters
Their frivolity behind serene masks
As valuable as fat that litters

They drink wine and pretend at games
They care not for any but themselves
No one matters, who cares about others
You feel an outsider in bleak pale



Penned by my hand on the 5th of Chronos, in the year 920 AF.