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The city has stilled,
Silence has fallen,
In the normally bussling streets.

The sun sets blood red,
Through the mist and smoke,
Acrid and corrosive in the air.

The fires burn brighly,
Quickly Consuming,
Their fuel, once so vital and alive.

As darkness encloaks,
The scenes of despair,
Screams of torment pierce the fetid air.

Scurrying vermin,
Carry Death's Angels,
To the people of this once proud place,

And as the plague spreads,
As it destroys hope,
The rivers run black with rotting blood.

None shall remain after,
Out dance is unfurled,
Scream the ill-harbingers of nature.

As the sun rises,
A distant voice shouts,
In a wearied tone, "Bring out your dead."