(please excuse my grammar, it's horrible)

I remember when people fled
screamed when they were dead
when the spawn roamed the land
occultists ruled with an iron hand
bur now it is not the same
I have lost all of my fame
the world is crumbling beneath me
from the future I must flee
my search for enlightenment is finished at last
the answers to everything are too vast
the knowledge overfills my brain
I grip my head, and real from the pain
I take one last look at the world around
then am closed in by the casket that surrounds
this is my goodbye to my previous home
at a much later time I shall return to roam

(there's my goodbye post, what you understand, good, what you don't, others will, goodbye for a long time achaea)

Arminius

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Glacian, in the year 211 AF.