[wickedwinternick]

You read this old parchment. It smells of ink... and alcoholic drink. The hand-writing seems like that of an elderly old man with little control of their hands.

The Lost Requiem

The more I see and too what I bear witness
The more faded it becomes; my remembrance
A charred requiem put to the pyre
A forming rage over the muffled choir
Sing now louder, sing now higher
Please raise thou voices! Raise them my muffled choir!
A trip to the past in which I so desire
O Sadness; the bridge burned by Requiem’s pyre!
I weep now at the ashes… all the memories now dust
My stalwart bulwark begins to rust
Now it seems it’s my mind that I can not trust
Howling to the wind, a fruitless venture
This sorrow born of loss, nothing can measure…
None can hear the boy who cried and howled
So quiet was he in shade of the choir long-ago muted
Soon he forgot to howl, so bad his memory, how it was diluted
Outsiders left to mourn the mute choir
Their final words from a unheard crier
“The moment of memory has long passed…
The final shadow of the lost is the one I now cast…”

Written by a deceased elderly man.