There once was a Siren named Taraus
whose only glass was abysmally porous.
She lifts it and sighs,
as champagne flies
Her life sung by a drunken chorus.


There once was a Viceroy named Nulaye
who balances Evil and flair on a tray.
She married an apple
Who would steal from a chapel,
leaving Nulaye to look down in dismay.

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Chronos, in the year 508 AF.