Queen of the Black Dawn

A short distance from the heart of the machine,
Within a black mechanical cube, she slumbers,
The Queen of the Black Dawn,
Tended to and protected,
Affixed to her mechanical throne,
She is the keeper of arcane knowledge,
Curator of a library of occult facts,
Monarch of the portal witches,
And controller of the Dream Surgeons,
Those who deliver her nightmare payload,
Into the minds of the enslaved.
She fertilises the nightmare gardens,
Growing her awful terrors for mass consumption,
Through her, all human energy is converted,
Into a black lifeblood that flows through pipes and hoses,
Invading bodies and powers this realm of shadows.
She is the receptacle for the poison that tortures,
The provider of knowledge extracted.
A sinister machine, her only purpose is agony,
The queen is answerable to only one,
That which is a part of everything,
Creator of this world,
Her own tormentor,
Bringer of oblivion,
The one beloved, Mother.

This is an Infinite Black poem, visit that page to learn more.