Hang on, stitching together your page...
Obviously this all got me pissed.
Have no empathy? Your heart is hollow.
Profit from this? You should meet the gallows!
Maybe I am wrong in all that follows
but this was the catalyst.
As the crank concluded, with a flourish
and a florid bow and gesture grand,
skein of silk ill-gotten, Marisand
pressed unwanted my unwilling hand.
He had never seemed more boorish.
This for you, my gift, a silken sample.
Spearing him with daggered look of hate,
proper words I cannot formulate.
What about the silk-stripped cathnid’s fate?
Still and silent it lays crumpled.