I was once told there is no such thing as a idea known as perfection
A long-lasting triangulated verse from a wizard with no weapons ..
He said, "I long-wanted peace. No one found me. I have only,"
"Nothing." After his long quest, he'd found no love at all. And
He cried in front of me.

I wept also, for his sake.
That sad wizard truly effected me.

Calling out the enemy ..
Raising his fists in the air ..
No matter, whether King James, Thoth the Atlantean,
He'd lost.

I wept again,
Later that night.
Because I send the wraiths in my sleep
And I am only a witch ..
A witch-saint.

He's gone too far, we all knew.

Deep down, no sadness worse,
Than a God who knows the higher God's curse.

Someone craving power, 
Wanting only more
To fight the other's power
WITH NO flowers in His hair.

Only a cradle of thorns,
Wanting more,
And wanting more,
untill he meets the Latin score.

I'd felt,
Like No God could truly exist,
The way I watched
As he rubbed his hands
Through the hair on his head.

The tragic wizard,
Who couldn't do anything.

And then there was a flood.
And alarmed, was King James.
To the castle, later-life,
Arthur mocked his jests,
And got high in front of them.
He killed all of the beasts,
Except
It took three lives.