Rating: K + / T
Notes: A old poem written years way, way back (07) when I was a 40K lore armature so it have its flaws.
Disclaimer: Warhammer 40,000 belongs to Games Workshop. WH40K and all related characters, settings, and associates belong to Games Workshop. I wrote this story out of purely entertainment purposes and nor am I not making any money or profit off it.
DECAY OF LIFE
Decay, Decay, Decay . . .
Everything in the grand universe decays.
No matter how strong or its youth.
It will decay into the grains of time.
It may take seconds, or minutes, to hours
Onto days, months, and years
Perhaps even decade, to centuries, or even a millennium . . .
Maybe infinity minus one would take the job to decay . . .
So much decay would cause Father Nurgle's . . .
Sinister laughter heard across the ever-decaying universe . . .
As the soundless voice of death . . .
Father Nurgle brewing his children of terrors in a ebony cauldron . . .
In his rotting mansion in a utopia garden of plagues . . .
With the plague of death . . .
And the scythe of grim face of death . . .
Decay, decay, decay . . .
So . . .
Much . . .
Decaying . . .