A bloody hell, blinded heart
Man of nothing, moan thy part
Of no respect, for fine spir't
A kind that loves, and finds mer't
That lies breathless, brands sorrows
All peers bemoan, pob ymaros
-Arwel of The Kept Valley
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Poems of the Kept
PoetryA poetic collection of my characters expressions, a glimpse into their fears and desires, a revelation of what drives them.
