There’s no saving myself, why even think it, I forget I'm stupid, and I'm poor, weirdly enough, that's what I find attractive in a woman, sort of in bad taste, weird to say, but damn, my dick goes wild, at the sight of her pussy, her huge tits jiggling, hey, what are you thinking, sorry, it eases the fire, burning me constantly, it builds up when I wake, gets hotter and hotter throughout the day, yearning for release, left with no choice, but to write poetry, cast spells, and tarot readings, sometimes I earn it, and sometimes the world is quiet, I’m able to rest, thank the heavens, there’s a lot I don’t know, and not knowing offers me comfort, but as I offer these words to the world, I live with it, just honey in a jar, tempting the foolish, those in need of yearning, and release, those thinking of escape, the ones that want to get high off poetry, and even worse, those who seek knowledge, the more you know the worse it will be, but maybe you have no choice, the river keeps flowing, death and transformations, and you're doomed to live, maybe you really needed it, put a finger in, do you believe in love, the world and an endless tower, it’s better to settle, build a cottage in the swamp, and think of your master…

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.