Entry #60: A Toast To Your Suffering (Poem)

I spit on your gods.

For they have been silenced by time.

I burn your churches to the ground.

They become temporary suns in a world of darkness.

I dance on the kneeling corpses of dead prophets.

Their tongues long removed from their poisonous mouths.

I cackle at the screams and wails.

The worshipers are suffocating.

I frolic through the blackened fields of soot and ash.

Let it paint my skin and reveal my face beneath.

I adorn my brow in a crown made of bones.

For my kingdom is that of the damned.

I wrap myself in the fabrics of burnt bark.

My new found armour.

I drink of your tears.

A toast to your suffering as I sip them back.

- Quiet-Emerald