The Maggot King

by Stephen Paden

The Maggot sits upon his throne
The dead, the living, and here rests the Worm
that plants despair into lush grounds
and green fields;
now a bitter wasteland.
Hear him cry from his throne;
the deafening thunder that breaks apart
walls of stone.
He slithers between the pews
to feed again;
digesting complacency
as he tears at the trough
of humanity’s hand.
The red sky above
signals the end of time.
The Worm sees the ageless clock,
and moves again.

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