Why is it that a fire burns
Hotter than our hate
When the heart of desire yearns
After the fortunate?
We throw away discretion
Condemned by this possession

Upon our breasts lies there imbrued
A list of names and things
With others often shared and used
Although it smartly stings
We must stem the infection
Spread by this possession

We must never suffer another to steal
That which we believe we've won
We must never suffer a mother to feel
The destruction of a son
Knuckles white in our regression
Holding on to our possessions

Alight we are when hands alight
On the apple of our eye
We seem to think we stand aright
The claims we think we buy
Destroy this pity session
Truly, you've no possessions

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Lupar, in the year 333 AF.