Undead Interlude

Rather than continue GLaDOS's Lament (And end any illusion of suspense or tension) I have a poem. This is quite unlike my other works, simply in its inspiration. On a dark night, in the stale midsummer, I awoke from a dreamless sleep. Directed by a will that was not my own, I lurched to my table and grabbed paper and a pencil. As I watched in groggy horror, my hand moved across the page, writing out a few short lines. It was, at the time, to dark to view what I had wrought, and I had no chance to light a torch, for I fell back into my dreamless sleep, and did not rise until morning. The incident was dismissed as a dream, until I saw the paper. Upon it were the following words: 'O! Rise ye fiend of rotting flesh and bone be fueled by malice.' I reached out with a trembling hand, and grasped the paper, tensed as if it was going to pull me from reality into a nightmarish realm. When I failed to perish, I knew I was to complete this work, and begin my descent into the shadows. Here is what it became.

Ode to the Undead
or
Realm of the Damned

By Reogan
With the aid of
A Possessing Spirit

O! Rise ye fiend of rotting flesh
and bone!
Be fueled by malice.
Obey me now, and build for me
a Nec-
romancers palace.

As Emperor of all I survey
and that
which I do not,
I order you, my cursed slaves,
to fill
the Land with rot.

And when, perchance, some fools resist
no mercy
shall you show,
Rather into the darkest depths
of Death
their souls you'll throw.

For when, at last, the World is dead
and war
and fighting cease,
And every sign of life is gone
the Land
will have its peace.