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Dying creature giving it's last breath

Warmth giving way to cold

System received a command to terminate

And the last strings is cut

Corpse, an empty vessel

Carried to the lone cliff

Left there under the acrid sun

For the vultures to feast upon

Awakened in a strange realm

Where the flames are real

Behind them, in the dark

Lurk creatures of the great dread

Although their appearance seems strange

They are very same

That have been nurtured

By the one they are to torment

There is no escape from their claws

No one will come to take them away

Suffering in their horrid embrace

Until they have fed enough

Flowers from the seeds

Now bloom in all their horror

Reaping what once was sown

Harvesting the bitter crop