The Weeping Mask rises from the ground
Up to the ceiling
And begins to circle around
The Weeping Mask has an eerie smile
And it has no problem whatsoever crying bloody tears
Letting them fall to the ground
And shatter apart in flames
In 4 different directions all around
With a Morning Star and the Golden Knife in my possesion
This battle is fast on my mind in needing to make decisions
After weathering the Weeping Mask's dark magic
I turn the tide in battle
Finally delivering the final blow
As the Weeping Mask burns in the air
Screaming out its final wail
It drops the Magic Cross
And it comes clanging to the ground
I pick up the Magic Cross
Adding it to my possesions along with the other items and weaponry I've collected
I rest for a minute or two
And I take some time to plan for my next adjective
For my journey is not over yet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem