Please Help ZNet







Returning from the dying moment

Cannot be in vain.

There must still be rage in me

That may some life sustain


I was not made for prudent skill

For safekeeping from evil.

My skull was made cussed, hard,

To  lock horns with the devil.


So gird thou thy depleted loins,

O struggling mortal man,

Let your last syllables be

The loudest you can.

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