Let’s take a journey into the past everyone…
I can’t believe in this story anymore
And it’s definitely the lesser of two evils
Nobody should tell this story
The story of the Island of the Ancestors
But I’m not here to bore you all
Never speak of this ever again
But it’s the story I’ve got to get out
Because this is aching me too much
It all began when a little girl spoke out
To the world that of which was at a war
She said, “How dare they mistreat us
And to them shall be cursed
The Island of the Ancestors will be warned
Because ye don’t believe it shall die”
Becoming a girl of the legendary Ancestors
She didn’t want anyone to be misspoken
As it’ll be named thus as Echakuleizen – a warzone
Because the wars that are going on are getting worse
I’ll become a girl of the goodness of The New World
But sadly she just couldn’t do it
As you may now know
That you’re forewarned to be cursed
Every little creature; no matter big or small
It should be in the great eyes of our Ancestors
And don’t you need to be forewarned anymore?
Because she’ll do it in the greatness of their eyes
Nobody will be forewarned of death anyhow
To ye should be alive and healthy
As an Ancestor herself
She always knew their rules weren’t
As she slept the night away
And awoke to the strange dreams
She slept again
And in that dream, there’s a bad thing
She awoke again and was frightened
So she said, “Is it you, my Ancestors?
I am here to forewarn all those who break all
These rules shall not be broken
Because it’ll be someone’s death wish”
And then slept again peacefully
Then she woke up as morning peaked
And she was covered head-to-toe in blood
But it was unclear how it got on there
The goodness of her Ancestors is warning her
So she shall become better in their eyes
But as it was mysteriously there on her body
It wasn’t such a mystery to her at all
The day was good for her
As she rinsed herself off
For there weren’t any blood stains
In her silky-white covered gown
The story of the Ancestors
It can’t be mistaken again
As it wasn’t her fault at all
Unusually there wasn’t a sign of delight
She slept the night when it was dusk
And she dreamt of the dream she had the other night
Her self-conscious was overthrowing her
Viciously and violently she had a nightmare of the Ancestors
Forewarning her to never speak about the rules
Because these rules are sacred
And that she shouldn’t speak of them again
So the night wasn’t her’s for the rest
But it’s called Echakuleizen
An island that is sacred to the people
And she couldn’t speak about it
For she’ll be dead
As you know this is just a story
And it’s not real you know?
Echakuleizen is a fib of our imaginations
So don’t take this story that I speak of for real
Poetry
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