Necromancer s Attack

A cycle of poems «Anamnesis morbi»

In shadows dark, where horrors dwell,
A necromancer weaves his wicked spell.
With ancient incantations, he summons the dead,
An army of darkness, twisted and misled.

Necromancer's attack, a night of dread,
Skeletons rise, with eyes of glowing red.
The living flee, their hearts filled with despair,
As death's embrace descends, beyond compare.

From graves long slumbering, they emerge with might,
Bones rattle, as they stumble into the night.
With swords of bone and eyes of ethereal flame,
They seek to claim the souls, ignite the pyre's flame.

The necromancer's laughter, a macabre delight,
He commands his minions, with unholy might.
They swarm the living, a relentless horde,
Leaving only ruin, where once life adored.

Necromancer's attack, a night of dread,
Skeletons rise, with eyes of glowing red.
The living flee, their hearts filled with despair,
As death's embrace descends, beyond compare.

Hope wanes, as shadows close in around,
The necromancer's power, knows no bounds.
Their skeletal grasp, a chilling caress,
Drawing victims closer, to the endless abyss.

Necromancer's attack, a night of dread,
Skeletons rise, with eyes of glowing red.
The living flee, their hearts filled with despair,
As death's embrace descends, beyond compare.

In the haunting aftermath, a grim reminder,
Of the necromancer's dark, twisted design.
A world once vibrant, now desolate and gray,
Where the living fear the return of that fateful day.