Famine’s Lament
Under The Floorboards / 7DS
Famine’s reign descends
in an icy grasp.
Souls rendered vacant,
an echoing chasm.
Skies turn gray.
The land runs dry.
Hope turns to ash
with a tearful goodbye.
Bellies distend
beneath the hollow sun.
Mothers clutch children
whose crying is done.
The earth cracks open,
parched and bare.
Even the worms
have abandoned their lair.
We feast on the fasting,
drink from the dry,
strip the marrow
from every desperate cry.
The harvest rotted
before it began.
We are the curse
on every plan.
When the last field turns
to dust and bone,
and the last voice dies
with a rattling moan,
we will still be here–
jaw unhinged and wide.
Famine never sleeps.
Famine is never satisfied.