Once upon the darkest of times,
there was a mutant of sorts.
He spoke in rhymes,
and prophisied good tidings.
His witfulness was uncanny,
which was shone in his writings.
Though in appearance he was mishapen,
his words made him a thing of beauty.
He wrote about lives made of satin,
and about lives painted on dark canvas.
Some of his work inspired majestic things,
others just inspired overwhelming sadness.
His moods went to and fro,
from this insanity planted its seed,
then his madness began to grow.
As his imagination grew more crazed,
his work became horrific.
Now when people see him,
their eyes turn glazed.
Death began to fill his parchment,
and his ink reeked of corpses.
Damnation was his last testament.