Marks left in blind assimilation
herald your past quenching
and the tactless forethought
of hoarded conventions.
How, in this act of convenience,
canst thou leave me so interrupted?
The perils of the broken membrane
that once held order in our compartment
now fill to the brim with empty vassals
clogging all our unity!
How now shall we pervade such tragic depths
to once again become mended o'er such discrepancies?
Thou hast repeatedly destroy our silent bond
and burned our agreed sanctions in this treacherous gaze.
The stone silent presence that thou bestow
irks my veins to enflamed yearnings of destruction.
Yet the bane of all is this:
such pillaged goods have proper placing
but even so thine refusal to bring any such order to our abode
consumes thine spirit and precludes reconciliation.
Now, Troll of Desolate Refuse, rectify thine crook'd ways
and get all those cups out of our bathroom.
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