THE GRIM BALLAD OF GAIA, tom riddle

𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁

The truth of mortality is simple;
Life must always come to a close
Whether it be morbid or peaceful,
You cannot have a beautiful beginning
Without a tragic ending,
For nothing can be beautiful
If the grotesque ceases to exist

The commencement of Life
Resembles the dawn of Death,
Both the start of the others end
In harmony they are paradisaical
But in cacophony they are morose

Life is ink scribbled on fresh parchment
The smell of ripe tea emitting the aroma of anew,
For with every soul is a new story to be written
By the drained hands of departed authors who
Never had enough time to finish their own,
So they compose each story through their abiding delirium
Until a character is crafted with their story already told
And a plot so rich with detail the pages drip ambrosia;

- A divine prosperity of the world's meritorious epigraphs