An age can be writ on lust for paper and the greed for ink and pen. Page that's blank, each scratch a caper to peruse the minds of men; Whose blood is made of heavy lead with brains of sharpened steel. The skill of wit to wright and bend other to their will.
Desire to hear the skirt of words befouling the page Destroy the space, create the world from a corner of the stage. Maim and kill with birth and life for such a simple story to scrawl words so fraught with strife but inside each pen a story.