Would you mind holding my mace
Before I take it to your face
Your words begin to grate
So sit happy while you bait.

My angel could tear your soul from you
A feeling of something passing through
An inside feeling it should not touch
A once-beating heart you will clutch.

So while I rhyme consider this
As you put ink to scroll and seriously miss
The facts you think are right and true
Are wrong, from a traitor, so shame on you.

Glory to Targossas where the dull are so few!

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Scarlatan, in the year 645 AF.