…the tomb's atmosphere was filled with air so heavy and cold, one could barely breathe. Reginald looked akin to the many corpses about, though blood and warmth still coursed through his veins. Yet stuck he was nonetheless, and I couldn't reach him. Not that I tried, nor that I really wished him out of there… But for one, there did not seem to be much to grieve about. Poor Reginald. What a Guard he was; determined, unrelenting, true to both himself and his friends. Though a fool, a triumphant one at that.
Now that you lay on the cold floor as you greedily grasp for air in blindness, I wish that you raised your voice. I wish that you did what was needed. I wish you were less caring, so now your heart would not be pierced.
I wish you never stood true to yourself. Now, look at you.
Your clothes to the church they brought from under a burned down house.
Rest easy, Anthonius, wherever you are.
Now that you lay on the cold floor as you greedily grasp for air in blindness, I wish that you raised your voice. I wish that you did what was needed. I wish you were less caring, so now your heart would not be pierced.
I wish you never stood true to yourself. Now, look at you.
Your clothes to the church they brought from under a burned down house.
Rest easy, Anthonius, wherever you are.
