Dry Well

Dry well with a thristy corpse
Juxtaposed against the sun.
Who stole the water that once was
Flowing out for greater love.
Who has spilt the blood of life,
And such grizzly carnage, decomposed?
Shame on them, their gulping, cursed, clan,
Of thieves and liars, ill-conceived,
Deserving death down to the man.
Death will find them, be assured,
As sure as other waters flow
In distant lands.

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