there is a place where no one goes
and in this place there lies a rose
a rose of deep and vibrant red
and while you lay asleep in bed
the rose is dying before your eyes
the rose is dying for your lies
and with the fall of every petal
you hear the screech of tearing metal
you try to wake up but you can't
you hear the sound of chaos' chant
the demon’s reign is taking shape
naught but murder, pillage, rape
that tiny rose, so soft and little
its grip on reality growing brittle
it used to hold the world together
now it’s weaker than a feather
and all because lord satan below
kicked god’s ass at a game of go.

(a little poem i wrote when i was bored)