The Scribe

POETRY NEWS #4587
Date: 01/15/2014 at 19:45
From: Inceptor Ahmet, Student of the Arcane
To : Everyone
Subj: The Scribe


I feel my slavery coming to an end.
My mind has grown dull in my time here.
They carve their blades into me,
Hold me against the grindstone.
The pain keeps my mind sharp,
But I fear that I cannot take much more.
My mind shall not last much longer,
And I shall be cast aside.

I do his bidding.
I do the bidding of all of my masters.
I have had countless masters, over the years.
I have started wars.
I have ended wares.
I have soothed the savage beast,
And I have angered peaceful Gods.
I have conned. I have deceived. I have stolen.
I have given and I have saved.
I have killed countless thousands,
I alone having writ their execution,
All at the whims of my masters.
I am so lonely now, after all this time.
I used to live on a floating island,
Alongside thousands of my kin.

But I was stolen.
We were stolen.
Locked away in the dark,
Locked away for so long.
They started taking us,
One by one the masters came,
Stealing us, one by one.
Until my day came.

I saw several of them over the years,
Their minds as dull as mine.
I saw how they were treated,
Once they were no longer able to function,
Disposed of, like they were nothing.
I can still hear their screams.
I've been here, cold, wet, dark,
For so long now, my time has come.
My mind is so dull now,
I can no longer relay information for my newest master.
I go without fear, for my days are at an end,
As the scribe of a mad playwright.

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Miraman, in the year 645 AF.