Under blackened skies, the city groans,
Like sagas etched in blood and bone.
No sails on the sea, but engines roar,
The wolves still hunger, as they did before.
Steel gods in towers, hands cold as frost,
They grind us down, no thought for the lost.
The weak are buried, the bold are slain,
Valhalla is gone, but the wars remain.
The streets run red with forgotten oaths,
Brother kills brother in shadowed cloaks.
No axes now, just guns that sing,
But the death they bring feels the same sting.
We feast on ruin, drink despair,
The raven flies, its blackened glare
Sees no glory, no righteous fight-
Just men devoured by endless night.
Odin's eye is blind to this,
Our battles drowned in soulless bliss.
Yet still we fight, for gold or fame,
Chained by iron, burned by flame.
No saga will tell of these nameless men,
No skald will sing of the end again.
But in the dark, our spirits scream,
For a world lost to an empty dream.
YOU ARE READING
Lurk's Compendium of Dark Poetry (LCDP)
PoetryIn this collection of poetry, the veil is torn away, revealing the undercurrents of darkness that run through the human experience. These poems are raw and relentless, exploring the spaces where light fails to reach, and the truths we fear most come...
