Land Of Crom

The violet clouds fold away into desert
I cut my arm, there is crimson dust inside
My footsteps lead here, what now?

Sand crystals knock a broken tree.
My god why have you forsake me!?
Crom! I am afraid!

The skull of a cow-beast
The tongue of a lizard
The hot sun runs bleeding into night's ice

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.