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The Flower MAG
Within the soil grows but one final flower.
Last upon all of the old world scoured.
Breathing in poisons from all the world soured.
Dead is the home of the free and the brave,
Chastisement en masse dragging all to the grave.
None of the many remain to be saved.
Gone is the veil of magic from sand,
Swept far away by the dark spectre's hand.
Deus ex machina killed by its stand.
So in the sea of the heat grows the plant.
Once called the place of the dead, now it can't.
For none do remain, so none can recant.
Withered lies flora with thirst for the rain,
Leaves are all gone, a' blowing on plain.
Shadow commences to bring on its reign.