Not my favorite drink
But I do like the color...

With beauty herself draped in your word
Sounding the veins of any who heard...

I will welcome Hell with open arms
As any mother would...

Lea of spring
Of autumns air...

To dream of a day without
Any worry, trouble, or doubt...

A thousand loves
A thousand years...

“He always walked with sinners”
They lie...

The old and faithful Spriggan
As dark as the vast cold Stygian...

This smile no longer reaches my eyes
For it has become the perfect guise...

We were raised by your many hands
To hold and guide us all...

Every work of heart is each a piece of art
Be it poems, sculptures, music or drafts...

Listen, do listen
The muse in the air...