“Days pass in a blur, pain and regret your only friend,

Working your truths and lies, you chase your only end.

A bite taken, the rest thrown. A sip drunk, and the rest spilt.

When will you realize my friend, pain drives your hilt?”

The pen glided across the page, the ink bleeding through its pores. Sometimes it would come to a halt — giving thought a chance to resume. Soon, it would continue, emotions and fate burning to fumes.

”Twenty Seven Thousand Years have gone by my friend, Countless Awakenings and Rests in the air,

Nine Hundred and Ninety Times my friend, is it fair?”

The hands holding this weapon were slender, yet strong. Gloves adorned their being, trying their very best to hide anything beneath. The pages turned, many such words had already found their mark. What was to come next? None could know — it could be light. Or it could be dark.

”Regret your decisions not my friend, they build your current path,

Regret your views not my friend, this world deserves your wrath. “

A snicker left the poet’s lips. Were they a ‘He’? Or were they a ‘She’? It could not be determined. Did that matter though? The question rung through the blackened room. Fates were being told. Deaths, Despair, and Madness. All in full bloom.

The pen — the classy fountain — resumed its journey.

”Alas, my friend. You have chosen an escape.”

The hands shivered.

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”ALAS, my FRIEND. YOU have CHOSEN an ESCAPE—!”

The pen shook, not realizing the repetition of its movements. Insanity hung in every syllable, betrayal left in their wake.

”Your actions my friend. YOUR ACTIONS MY FRIEND.

Your illuminated yet darkened future they Shape. “

Silence — once constantly broken by the rustling of paper, and the scribbles of a pen, regained its horror. The being put a pause on their poetic tapestry. The pen slipped out of their grasp, the book’s pages fluttering by the wind. Shadows reigned supreme in this small room, the book and the hands barely seen.

Shakings trembled through the air, their chair skid back. The being regained his footing. Hands on the table, their back bent. Thuds resounded on the table, yet they left no dent.

Ha. Hahaha. HAHAHAHA.

The snickers left, small laughs retaining their purpose. Soon, they also fled, bellows breathing in their stead.

The room trembled with each spasm ‘He’ brought. The winds howled with each breath 'He' took. The world once rejected 'His' very existence, so 'He' put himself in eternal slumber. Now everything once again lay in 'His' grasp, time in momentous thunder.

The fallen pen found its mark, the pages had been turned once again. The tunes resumed.

”You have awoken me my friend, now yourself different from your previous kind and breed.

To vanquish your existence my friend, Why To Her Did You PLEAD?”

The laughter bled, opening wounds of rage. For whatever they existed, insanity marked ‘His” Visage. Where would ‘He’ now go? What would ‘He’ now write?

”A Rude Awakening my Friend, You have put forward your Final Stand,

A Rude Awakening my Friend, Your Past chose the Wrong Hand.”

The pages turned, the knowings shivering in fright.

”A Rude Awakening my Friend, you have now done countless times.

A Rude Awakening my Friend, our story now resumes its rhymes.”

Constant short bursts of inspirations flashed through ‘His’ mind. Were they delightful? Or were they distraughtly? — the world returned in kind.

”A Rude Awakening my Friend, What efforts will you show me now?

A Rude Awakening my Friend, The Vicious Cycle you will escape HOW?”

”Strength once succumbed to your Plunder,

Destruction and Creation blooming in gleam.

Awaken yourself likewise my friend,

You have reached your End’s Dream.”

The pen was put down, for a chapter had completed. Whatever thoughts resounded in ‘His’ head, would remain a secret. Soon a new chapter would unfold, for multiple mysteries had broken. The spells would continue their words, for a new mystery had been spoken.