The muse requests at first you read, The page of intro here,
and from there go yes do proceed, Abandon peril, fear.
So from the intro now being past, We ask the question, why?
The muse of photo climbs this mast, Alone in here, to fly.
The mast he climbs is from ill fate, From sites of net abound.
The writings of the muse met mate, With voices, loudly sound!
The feel the muse now carries plain, And what him has, now torn.
Is, is the nature of the world humane? Or merely side with thorn.
For in the musings of this Bard, Where effort been made great,
The most proclaim, village retard! And seal forthright his fate.
And so it comes to pass this day, That muses' name be borne.
And carries on his merry way, Alas, alone, forlorne.
The muse of photo would ask thee, If soul of yours have move.
To pen the thought, give voice, be free, And join into this groove.
The comment choice it is below, Your voice it may give weight.
Go forth, and click, do not be slow, Lest Muses' end, is fate.
One question that the muse MUST ask, And answers, please be plain.
Is this of normal manner, task? Or muse he are insane?