I found this in a scroll, in my grave which I laid my head to sleep at
night as a child. Be forewarned this isn't a poem, but more of a
prophecy.

I am the thorn in the foot, I am the blur in the sight
I am the worm at the root, I am the thief in the night
I am the rat in the wall, the leper that leers at the gate
I am the ghost in the hall, herald of horror and hate
I am the rust on the corn, I am the smut on the wheat
Laughing man's labor to scorn, weaving a web for his feet.
I am canker and mildew and blight, danger and death and decay
The rot of the rain by night, the blast of the sun by day
I warp and wither with drought, I work in the swamp's foul yeast
I bring the black plague from the south and leprosy in from the east
I am the shrill cold spirit that chills the darkness you feel after dark
I am the chaos that tears stars apart.
You cannot escape me
You cannot defeat me
You can only embrace me


Death's Apostle, Savant of Oblivion
Mordecai Vli'nisar, the Tyrrant of Enmity

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Midsummer, in the year 78 MA.