Eulogy to the Unknown

Such a tyranny in your hierarchy
The Midas touch with a tarnish toward travesty,
Pretty maids all in a row set upon by a put on
Bags of dirt put dinner on the table,
Tall tales of wandering Brook
So unseemly seedy,
without reason she tried to shake
the fable of the wolf,
but merely shook
The seeds have sown for some (tawdry)
nothing but weeds
By contempt you sustain on nettles
and burs and thirst forever on a
hatred that you name needs
I shall take the reigns
Growing as strange and lovely as I wish
and suffer through my past and present pains
As for Brook and her haunted babbling,
She mistook escape or a heated chase
for a fatalistic romance, an omnipresent thing
Tragic in that as a watery soul she only
needed to ask the fire to cease
May she rest in peace