Dare enter to thy miserable life! See the nothing inside my dying brain. I was a poet once before the strife, it was hell to watch it destroy my train.
Now every word sounds like it is a joke, there is no plot inside this teeming home. I do not want to watch you fall and choke, but it is hard when you read me your tome.
I hope you enjoy bullying your son, because this is the last you'll see of him. I made him go quite crazy so he'll run. I control all the words that come from them.
So until he becomes one who can't sleep, I will make him see me and want to weep.