[[An original Poem by myself]]
The gods are bold
when nights are cold
and they leave their throwns
under earth or in sky.
They twirl and dance
singing eldritch chants
invoking faith
lest they should die.
When this mortals see
they run and they flee
for gods while creators
are sometimes cruel.
They make men work and toil
kill and till soil
for to these higher powers
humans are their tools.
But someday soon
upon a full moon
the gods will falter
fall and cry.
For with no faith
they soon becomes Wraiths
because when we stop believing
even Gods can die.
