In final peace of offering,
Glass portrait left all to bestow.
Fearing time running out to sing,
Nested feathers seen as dark woe.
Was suppose to be a present,
To which I know would never be.
No more to you ever I bent,
You owe me nothing of a fee.
Shakespeare was already a fraud,
The slave was never seen of all.
Insanity all letters clawed,
Never crossing nor not to fall.
So screech the haunting demons chess,
Wept darken tears upon our mess.