Not every specter merits a good scream
At times they’re only there to foster rue
In those that had to put aside their dream
For duty's sake (that’s what the loyal do)
But still it can be jarring to behold
That shambling shade whenever it appears
Its fetid breath unsettling and cold
Reminding them of fallow, wasted years.
The rattling of chains, that old cliché
Is much more accurate than many know
For most have grown accustomed to a yoke
Refuse to let such fiends have their own way
Tell them, “Take your corroded links and go!”
Then watch as *POOF* they simply turn to smoke.
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