The inkwell overturns,
Its contents spread across the desk,
The ink soaks everything in its shadowed path,
Changes all to dark,
Makes a dark stain on the hearts of men,
Takes their humanity,
Makes them forget,
Why they're here,
They go on their way,
Their dark stains showing,
They tread on and on,
Whatever they touch,
The dark stain consumes,
'Till nothing is left in the light,
Still, before too long,
It has ebbed and has faded,
The dark stain is gone,
But the inkwell remains,
Watching and waiting,
For its ink to be spilled.
