Here's a tale in historynAbout a period of tragedy nA man who thought of horrid thingsnBut really sought what happiness brings nTerror instilled within the soulsnOf men and women, young and old nCome and listen to me, my friend nHe'll make your morale descend nnOne Boston day, it's sad to saynA newborn child was granted miserable life nAbandoned by his father andnLeft alone by death of father's wife nnFoster child nTobacco exporter gave him a chance nHistory defiled nTwisted by literature, dark and opium enhanced nIrregularity nSo far ahead of his time nA spark of a breednRegarding all of his literature creed nnInfamy of tales and poetry nConnecting his themes to his wildest dreams nnThe maelstrom grew but no one knew nHe descended far beyond its spinning walls nInto the pit, the black abyss nHis house was collapsing as he searched for El Dorado nnPerched upon Pallas was life, hard and callousnThe shadows of burden lifted nevermore nThe vulture eye of death concealednBy wooden planks below the floor nThe quest for solace evolved into sorrow nLingering obsessions nIntoxication, stimulation, creation nHindering addictions nnApparently the message in a bottle was lostnFor I could see no conclusion nBut all of us remaining in the shrouded pastnMust remember to further ourselves by obtrusion nnInebriated grin leads the mighty pennAcross the paper as his fears come alive nSatiric whim ignites the brimnOf insanity as Pluto arrives nSwaying cognac barriersnAnd the beating of his hideous heartnIncreasing ever so constantly nConjuring the ne'er forgotten lore n'Tis only this and nothing more