O ye prince of many dour endeavors
why would such a nobel partake in death?
Objects ye' gods shall avoid forever
Stolen from men who curse in thou last breath
Hoarding thee entities corrupts thy name
May it be, thy demons detested thy fame
Doth thou loyalty remain lucid and pure?
Or shrouded by morbid night terrors lure
O weary prince, rest in the endless herse
Deluded, his obsessions turn a curse
Thy deceased never have before graven
Until thou eternal soul was taken
Ye affliction's crow, eating what's inside
Whilst in the heavens your tale must confide
--Joshua M., 17
