Exuded Nonsense

Of all things I've felt

From what may have been pæll

To be withdrawn it seems

To an unnerving Opulence

To a Regency of Plight

To squander mín wrath on a brash youth

To awayward cyre, witheld odium

Of days and days and weeks and weeks

Too weak! Too weak! Too strong! Too meek!

Mín inquest for Echad and Ken 

Deliberations, blank soundness

Módhord molsnian, they decay, these secrets

It shan't be as far, no eye remains a slit

Manigfeald tongues wilt taste hasufág rays

No homage, O' Son, thou durst host?

So play, play with the wheel

But not with me

For mín neowol conquest

For mín Hǽlend

Pín is without recourse.

-Leah