We come here from the mirages and empty pockets, victims of an incident that left bodies cold but two souls who couldn't stop it. Keep an eye on the battle cry, or the nasty rhyme, or either of the sluggers lugging bags of wasted time.

I'm Bizzarbitrary. Showing soon [s]now[/s] [@BrokenBedlam]. From there, we proceed. This is an area for poetry set on the altar, a sacrifice to the neutral dead to continue on from where they could only falter.

[s]We write words.[/s]