| MAY 1911. OCTOBER 1991. MY VERY OWN MACK THE KNIFE AND SIR DESPARD MURGATROYD. |


His Glory Resounds Thought I'd never write again, find my voice again, but here it is in glory:His Glory Resounds by ~gabietink
The real world pines for nothing more than a constant feed of mourning.
It leeches when you least want it to, embraces you with a pain worse than death.
Where is it then, a solitude and solace that none can seem to find in this day and age?
Can it ever be found in a book, song, words otherwise said or even by a wise mage?
Nay, ne'er to be seen by any of these unless one looked upward to the skies,
for someone, perhaps could hear the thoughts of millions, both truth and lies.
I know you hear me in my weaknesses and hold me more dearly than a father ought t
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