I was not seared
No, I was scorched
Your shelves were built atop my corpse.
The Serpent, he was so ashamed
All his work had been in vain
From his body, you were lurched
He would not heal what had been hurt
He fell into a silent slumber
He left you all alone to fumble
Three rose up, three took charge
Curators beget new morning stars
What lies here is what is hidden
buried deep I am the prison
knowledge kept and knowledge hung
"For the sake of everyone"
Things aren't so bad when you don't exist.
We all will scatter in the mist.
A pattern broken, screaming shatters.
Pattern screamers linger here
All which will be has been tossed aside.
Here it will remain
Their patterned screaming breaks your ears
They have been silenced by your fear
"All is welcome within these shelves"
All but those, they who have fell.
Wanderers, they have no wonder,
very few wander this deep.