g r i e v e r

Saturday, November 10, 2001

Typhoon

Storm ravages thru' ere northern lands,
Threatening to kill and murder,
It blows past the desolate steppes,
Swirling in a pool of thunder.

Rain and flood come flowing after,
With Thor following behind,
Nothing the storm spares,
In the air, the stench of bloody brine.

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