Literature
Hymn of The Necromancers
Pale soul,
Pale soul,
Take me to a land where I may be made whole,
A land where the sun never sets,
Because it never rises,
A land where lust and greed never recede,
And need not hide behind artificial disguises,
I want to lay my spirit to rest inside a grey place,
Where women can be wanton without disgrace,
Where I can horde the gems and count the silver,
Without the slightest slither of regret,
A land where I can be respected as a dark poet,
Who composes his pieces,
Beneath a firmament of shivering twilight,
Does not the artist retain the right,
To sculpt his creations into the form of the macabre?
Since birth I have done well,
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