---

Flames erupt.

Smoke casts a shadow,

a masquerade for terror and bloodshed.

We inhale

Sigils woven,

flown drenched on spikes.

Fabric sewn

from garbs of the deceased.

Impaled

Dismantle primitive ideals.

A distorted image of perfection,

dirtied and callous,

unrecognised.

A crimson tide ashore,

back into the sea.

A slate wiped clean

before the new moon.