"And what of you, my irksome muse,
Who drank the ink with which I write?
'tis only spit that meets the page
With curdled blood and words of spite -
I loved you so,
but now I know
that stars are not forever bright"
Very spooky to me, but Ben, this is amazing! The words hardly matter when you have this kind of talent (except Keira would surely have something to say about it ;) )
I was not expecting this from the title, but wow!