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I posted this on my blog the other day.

Forget the words you have to say,
for they mean absolutely nothing.
All the pieces finally placed may
endure as long as the future holds by becoming
something well to behold in the future
of which is already unsteady, for sure.
So the poor beggar of a soul,
bequest and alors doth creepeth up the lofty tower
for serendipity, honor, and ruin,
which we all knew very well.
So farewell, forked demon, and remember me always.