Some might say, this is the most perfect poem ever…
Legend Err He
He was a legend in his own
Mine
The key to under standing
Such a hollowed caricature
Begging for some type of caption
Awe the wile
Unfulfilling others
As the sores of fiction
Chasing tale
And yarns of being frayed
Tolled over and over
Soully to be haunted
Buy empty vassals
Nothing abut a pimple on humanity
Scaling up
Mountains of what
Remains
A farce to be reckoned with
Helled fast in his cockamamie perfection
Dare he err
