A Discarded Note

Written upon the parchment is a fine hand writing, one that seems to have been written slowly over time with a great amount of care.

The Bloody Moon

Though the shadows they come at night, twisting oh how they turn.
Thought the shadows they come at nigfht, its our blood that they do yern.
Moving though the shadows of night, they come hunting for you.
Raging in the shadows of the night, their hunger is fueled by the moon.

My Confession

I came here seeking lore I did, I came here to escape, but now that I sit and wonder, what is too be my fate.
Far away from home I am, these commoners know not of who I am.
But perhaps that is my saving grace, for if they did I would be damned.

I wonder too, I wonder from, always wondering far.
Some days I sit and reflect on the wise words of old poppar.

The waisting is taking a hold of me, but I do dare not return, I simply can not face them, even if its their companony I yern.
So I sit here writing my thoughts, my deeds and my betrayals, what would this fine commoners think, if I

(The Poem stops here suddenly as though the person writing this was interupted, and from its place on the floor under the table it must of been knocked down upon rushing off, maybe the owner of this might reward someone for returning it)