Devourment

Dark days of crimson skies and fields of those forsaken
The king that called for a higher brand of suffering be inflicted
His masses bent to serve his lust
His will to impale all who oppose
With force driven through a wooden pole
Death would not come so soon for most
Forced through the anus smashing through internal organs
Splinters tearing tissue, ripping through the sinew gushing pus
Some were pulled with force, causing blood to shower the fertile ground
Some were left to slowly drift, inch by inch, day by day
Breathing while the stake would slowly pierce through their body
Feeling every ounce of ungodly pain, completely coherent