Did I say too much,
Did I say too little,
Did I say anything at all?
I can’t remember,
Through the smoke of chaos,
And all these lives that have been lost.
Authors note: This is an old poem–I actually have not herd anyone use the word spam for some time now.
I sing to thee, oh gods of distraction. You who have aggravated me so often before; I thought I was rid of you long ago. But as it has been proven time and time again, you will always be there to distract people from the main point. You are like the phoenix born again bringing a burning flame of flaming with you. Oh I see now that you must be that you must have a place in our world. But how people are so obsessed with you; why are you so why must you distract and why—oh crap this is spam isn’t it.
The Chaos bringer; the knight that writes the night. He will always find you; the keeper of ordered light. The more you try to control your life, the more he will come. And destroy everything you hold dear; your nothing more than a name on his list. But when you least expect it he will come again and save you from destruction, from your certain death. And no matter how preordained it seems. He will save you anyways. Because he spits in Fates face, time has no place.