Bloodlust
27. April 2007 | 
Autor Bloodlust
From gleaming scales soaked with blood,
an armoured,
clawed hand reaches up,
towards the heavens,
relishing the smell,
of victory,
which so many,
hours of battle was the product,
a dead,
lifeless carcass,
so beautiful in its,
monstrosity,
has been slain.
Veröffentlicht in Englische Gedichte