A Poem of Archin

- by Archin

I just read a poem written about a fellow during the Victorian period, who reminded me of Archin.

The poem was written of Robert Lowe, by a fellow that didn't like him.

"Here lies poor old Robert Lowe; 

Where he's gone to I don't know; 

If to the realms of peace and love, 

Farewell to happiness above; 

If, haply, to some lower level, 

We can't congratulate the devil."

I thought I'd just switch some words around and angle it towards my louder half.

It's an epitaph:

"Here lies poor old Archin Brey 

His mouth finally has been stayed 

If the Light be his resting place 

Farewell to peace and quiet space; 

But if to darkness, he be left 

The Legion, forever, rendered deaf"

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