And so Many days it has indeed been I think back now,
Mayhap never again and twice born,
But as death did come at the sight of such putrid scum, disonate virture,
Alas I was the injured one,
For death came to me swiftly, to the heart quite quickly, and ne'er more to be so alive,
I find the trees as my closest confidied...

Lost amoungst the tides of the days again,
and never to see such of what is sin...
aye, it's been that way,
torn between night and day, lost in the seas of tears...
between virtue and rue... what am I to do...
Whitman Drear Poet O' the Wood.

quite
quaint
#help

Penned by my hand on the 12th of Valnuary, in the year 243 AF.