Agnes

I sit,

Standing alone

Wandering,

Against

The perils

Of

The swarming

Thoughts and

Death,

Perversions, sweetly singing of

The lost

Minds,

,The Lost

Life,

, Those phantasms of

Existence,

Loosing naught

The souls of the Immortals

Which gave

, Nothing, not for

Every

Thing

But

Themselves.