Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Odds to Ash

The Catalyst's fire burns with passion,
The Fuel bringing flares of defiance.
The Relentless licks of orange
Slither about the surface of The Hourglass
Veins throbbing with The Pulse,
Boiling the blood of The Vicious,
Whose scythe glints in the eye of The Reaper
When he plagues the world with The Disease
And brings along the most unexpected twist
Known as The Barbaric.
Our witches fall by the hand of The Wicked,
Covens of them fleeing by the wave of the same catalyst's fire.
But who takes the blame for carrying this eternal flame?
We'll place it on the burdened shoulders of The Scapegoat,
He cares not for guilt, for he suffers indifference,
The war of change.
We will not come from dirt,
But instead take it under our nails and
become what others step on to get further.
This dirt - this ash - had a start,
Again we ask when it stops falling?

~~~

I wanted to further confuse you all, so I did it in poem form.

I just remembered I don't poem.