I am a lonely old man. The problem is that I have become somewhat senile
as I have aged. I wish to live many more years here in this, but my
senility is causing lots of problems. Luckily I can call my spiritual
mace, not so for the rats and gold I misplace.
I humbly ask that if anyone knows of a cure for my malady, please tell
for it troubles me terribly. You see, my claim to fame is my poetry.
It was my poems that caused Mighty Sarapis in his infintie wisdom to
create the poetry board, but my senility has left skills as stick as a
board. Thoughts run through my head like a demon horde, and I seem to
stuck in river I cannot ford.
Please help me regain my poem writing ability and my means of living.
And I'll soon be Rym, the Gift that Keeps on Giving.

Penned by my hand on the 5th of Glacian, in the year 305 AF.