The Watcher, Wreathed in Flame
In the throes of passions eased I’m bereft of need or want This fallen creature doth bleed Needlessly as he’s placed through hell and Horrors Of a mind of a tortuous kind By my design shall his fate become Transformed of The culling of hope as his mind doth decay Showing him atrocities nobody should bear Illusion Trapped within his own Bitter and seething realm Marked for death this slave of the world Damned for things he did not see Like a fool he answered the call We are legion; we are king With this fallen wretch before me I will drive him on to the depths of depravity I will drive him on I’ll destroy his world This broken tortured soul And within this calloused heart was laid waste indeed - any semblance of what came before The conquering of his humanity Conquering of his faith All is lost now behold the fallen Extolling the wretched as a glorious thing We are the ones that the fallen sullen Did not perceive We are the ones through your hearts (it’s desires) We lead Your weakness grows all at once as you fall Asunder your broken and feeble will We are the hidden ones who are always Watching within When concerning its fate We can see you are dead and already buried And on all accounts We will lead you towards a terrible fate We all obey The fools of the world We all obey Condemned for atrocities We all obey Unquestioning thrall We all obey Those who beckon from behind the veil Wreathed in flame is the one whom the beckoning call It flows forth from the master of the caller
Submitted by Warbringer — Jul 01, 2026