Vacant Wastelands

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote this, in 2016. It's part of my 7th poem set, Opened Obstruct.

Submitted: March 18, 2017

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Submitted: March 17, 2017

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The labyrinth, of, curses, is, crumbling, into, dust.

Psychotic, minions, are spawning, and, starting to, rush.

Now, that, I, have, all, five, keys, these entities, will be, crushed.

Elemental, orbs, shooting energy, outrageously, like illicit, manufactured, guns.

Glorious, generated, gear, intensified, with, exceptional, abilities, and qualities.

I, must show, no mercy, and, utilize, my, fierce, combat, specialties.

There is, sure to be, enormous, amounts, of, blood, and gore, screams, and horror.

I'm, about to, unleash, an overwhelming, force, and, morph, into, my, ultimate, form.

One, by, one, I'm, dispersing, them, as, hordes, continue to, emerge.

But, it's, futile, efforts, these cursed, beings, will be, purged, once, I, go, utterly, berserk.

This disgusting, battle, has lasted, many, days, and, it, turned, into, a full-scale, war.

All, of, the distorted, lands, that, border, one, another, have collapsed, into, giant, craters, of, sand.

And, now, the ruins, that, remain, in, their, place, are blood, stained, valleys, of, vacant, wastelands.


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