No matter how you scold the moon,
it will shine just the same, to it's tune
And we, like the sky, are so stubborn that I
don't expect that you'd ever change too.

So this petty and childish exchange,
in which everyone's mind doth derange
to ever expect, that your words will affect
Another immature like you to change.

Now, if you write your own interject
Are we not civil still to expect
Praise, or no sound. This idiocy confunds
me to suggest you all have your minds checked.

- Salem Sykes Morningstar,
He who likes poetry that isn't stupid.



Penned by my hand on the 9th of Variach, in the year 215 MA.