Written by Mercury the Scribe

A Scenic Sight

The breeze blows
the smell of carrion.
Fields of stinking corpses
All rotting in a pile.
Jagged horns, crooked antlers.
A meadow of carcasses
like a bouquet of flies.
The perfect scenery,
malignant blight,
That rancid aroma.
Ah, what a sight

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