the wicked and cruel seek revenge
while the careful are poverty striken artists
there the lay, hidden by masks of solitude
where no name shall be called and no soul will rot
here one can be safe
saved by the baggage of decayed civilization
elsewhere they defy the world with words called wisdom
(but heard as confusion)
while the dammed are rotting with tearful eyes and sad smiles
looking blessed with misery and cursed with passion
seeing the world as bueaty left unchanged
and hearing it called bueatiful forever
just as innocence left alone
will forever be innocent

Penned by my hand on the 12th of Scarlatan, in the year 256 AF.