I tire of waiting
for such inevitable irrelevance;
I tire from that which does not exist.
Dear Critic, do tell me a tale,
is it I or we that belong in this crypt?
Do tell for Fright lives swiftly
and a fool he is not.

Dastardly Sigh, can you not see?
A moment of silence is all that it breeds.
So please, without further ado,
****** the plot.
It hints to a line that mustn't be crossed
and for that I simply haven't a thought.