As I know more of mankind I expect less of them, and am ready now to call a man a good man upon easier terms than I was formerly.
-Samuel Johnson

A mystery, a curse.
By the name of Lissa.
With the weapon of a pen.
And a lethal curl of a tongue.
A dear friend of crisping, aging words.

A mistake, a terror.
A walking abomination.
A ticking time bomb;
An explosion waiting to happen.

Jettatura, I am.
Bad luck, my reign.
An Avatrol is my hat.
Cruelties my disguise.

Fictionpress.

Updates:

(April 10, 2009) Finally, chapter three of Shards of Glass. If you're still with me, I love you.