Nirvash-7

A poem to you, Queen Myrrah, Head of the Locust Horde, Using your army as a shield And using your mind as a sword Me, myself, is only A solider of the COG, An alcoholic of battle, With adrenaline as my grog. Apologies to you, my Queen, This poem ‘bout you should sound, About how your heart will be replaced With the lead of a Boltoc round. I have nothing against you personally, But if you want my head to crack, Then I shall do that which is logical And aim to fire back. In many ways you’re human, In many ways you’re not, As you’ve sent you Locust children To kill us all on spot. You must be a nymphomania