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