I found you were only accessible
through missions delivered by
knighted monks who had seen
the jeweled-eyed lover whom had
reigned years past. You set these

limits and now you can’t be saved
for all the ancient ones are dead
and there is no one who can meet
your standards. You’ve screwed
yourself over. And weep black tears.

for your pain. Watch your
sorrow grow and envelope you
in a web of childish games
and pranks. You’ll chase your words
and promises around, and around, like

a dog until you are too tired.
So you lay down to die and join
your precious holy martyrs in
a blue fire pit that is blockaded
by humanity’s soul and society’s restrictions.