A populace torn into factions, all fractured, broken and hewn
Numb and unaware of the infected, festering wounds
Maggots line the lips that spit those aspersions
Archdevils devise and conquer with oligarchic coercions.
The Jagged King presides over this chessboard
To the prosperous priests, he is lord.
They must create this contagion for you
For the dark accolades they are due.
Defiled corpses of commoners compose the tattered trail
Dark peddlers strive to sell the will to prevail.
A coin for each contract, and a stitch for each soul
Threaded to a grin for the madmen to behold.
Lies will soothe and feed this disease
Who could stand against a legion that dwells upon its knees?
Flagellants lay sores upon the backs
Leeches feast upon the cracks
A plague of hatred and vehement pawns
They fight, while devils steal the dawn.
No greater affliction hath been wrought than the plague of pawns. The most devoted slaves are possessed of euphoric zealotry to their own inner darkness, for that would aspire to achieve the comforts of uncompromising deviltry. They are the pawns walking amongst their fellow paupers, praising kings and killers alike for their triumphs, even as they break beneath the scaled hooves at which they worship. Shackled to the chessboard, these pawns ensure an army for the wicked, to clash against itself in perpetual injustice. To the pawn, even blood is fit to be retained within coffers, and victims are their own, sole destroyers.
