Lancer

"...and if you believe in God, it's because of the devil" - Enigma, MCMXC A.D.

Forewarning: If you are looking for inspiration and positivity, skip this one.


A robe covers it, darker than brown.
A morbid figure rides out the town.
On a black steed, a loyal handsome beast.
'Steelclash' shield in left hand, had a blood feast.

A hood ear to ear, hides the face inside.
The dark aura, it is the grim reaper personified.
But instead of the scythe, it is the lance.
Drenched in victory, moves in a proud trance.

Two bundles of skulls hang, a clutter they make.
A foul stench of death, trails in its wake.
Smoke rising from burning huts in twilight
sets the day, as it transits to night.

Concealed in the hiss, lies a crooked smile.
The toxic venom resides right to the bile.
The dark strength gathers the energy vile.
The river of flames and the blight spreads mile by mile.

-A negative poem on the behalf of Diablo