KING SIRA
KING SIRA A king falls gored by darts of fire The skies rain soot; a foul gas coils. It rots pure buds; grey lips ooze tar and split rare trees that waltz in joy. Man howls for life but sinks to mist Gales hurl the ash of once high lords. O woe gilt souls who drift here blind The red ghoul stalks to... Sign in to see full entry.