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all scourges passed

the world shrinks

saddened by eloquence pure

taketh thy verse

we shall suffer acutely

o' great lake of tears

a solemn mass sung

from olden catacombs

pale men lie wreathed

...in gloom

frolicking wings of monarch, doth crumble and morning dew shall

too oft i weep

for our discord begotten

as every last eye will close.

a shoreline haven succumbed, to mirage inevitable

embrace within our weakend arms

shan't we view our fallen oaks

timid fawns

shed sullen tears

i, a worn man

forced to submit

stumble

manifest grief

therefore i withdraw my pen in nocturnal repose