In the mid of the day, the figure of a certain proclaimed poet could be seen stalking the streets as usual. They took out their hammer and nail- loudly attaching another parchment of paper to the Golden Willow's bulletin before promptly pulling several more hand-written copies of the document from their cloak and spreading them about. Several more copies could be found nailed against trees in the park and it seemed that the poet had found themself with more free time this eve than any other to have made so many of the writings and spread them so far about the city- even so that one of the poster would be floating along the water at the harbor.
Down come my messages
Down like the dead
No worry, I didn't write this to complain
I simply can't understand why anyone is insulted
By something so bright and clear in the day
Do you not see corruption
Sickness and filth?
Not only in our skin but our minds
We've been lied to and cheated
Called the bringers of Plague and more
Who are we to be faithful to the faithless
How can a Spirit
So high in the sky
Be a protector of anyone down here
It makes not one pint of sense if I were asked
Lucky for me, my words can be lost easy
So why should I fear speaking my thoughts?
-Icarus Albatross
