I Reject, Demise.
Tears bornt of rue, T’is a shame for how must I stew, For the tale, I wish to project is grim, He, who bears skull to crest, Forever is plagued in curse; carried to chest, Fiends of nocturnal limbo, Eclipses all of the curse, Tricksters that flutter tongues Graved fraught despondency Armed brother procured by void, Draws near, convert from matching flesh Ambitionist of rampant seas, Wielder of the curse, Container of destiny, Usurper of fate, All centuries may repute Sickle’s last mercy. -SS
