Culling

Haunted by the past
The creatures mount the dark
Mourning their past glories

From sea to dying shores
They wither at the core
Igniting inner fury

Dogs once bred for war
Now lapping at stitched wounds
Cull the weak with euthanasia

Symbiotic to be sure
Of the host and of the worm
Dying souls to linger

Kiss not the beast for fear of shame
And dying in his name
Of ashy dust and cinders