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 weakened 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