Crimson Conquistadors

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We struck in the early morning,
as the will-o-wisps danced in pine branches,
while the last of the stars lighted their swaying tops.

With faces alight with the glow
of stars upon the waterside,
and snarls of pure euphoria....
With the hands of a tiger....

We descended.

Now, tattered and torn,
wrinkled, rustled, and ripped,
a cluster of corpses clutters the ground.

Glistening golden trinkets
and gossamer garments
we pulled from the bellies of the dead,
transplanted organs from an unwilling donor.

Breathe in and share,
Savor the saccharine of success.
Prudent planning always leads
to the perfect murder.

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