Egypt

Tears of blood flow from a painted eye,

glimpses of a pharaohs nightmare.

Souls of slaves howling vengeance,

for the horror of what he was.

Imprisoned and eternally bound,

by the vows that made of him a god.

Sealed in death by his tomb,

the spiders lair of power.

Blood flows through the caverns of his soul,

acid burning his consciousness.

Marks of a thousand murders,

claim him from their unmarked graves.

As still as death is quiet,

as only the reaper can be,

neither time nor memory,

alters his anguished hell.

Sarcophagi line his halls,

his court preserved to mock him,

taunting him with shadows,

of a lost golden age.

What carnal right has bound him to earth,

one of guilt, of shed blood,

one of power of life and death.

Created by a races slaughter,

fed by the responsibility of

a deity gone mad with blood lust.

This work by mysticdave is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.