The Bane of Hearts
by Madman
Life on the edge,
The sharp edge of the sword,
The Bane lives there daily,
molding the written word.
Who shall he anger?
Who shall he jab?
Who shall he impale?
Who shall he nab?
Hanging it out on the limit,
Working without a net,
The Bane is sure that this one
Is his funniest yet.
Out comes the poem,
placed into the notes.
Then he sits back,
And waits for all the votes.
Some laughs on gossip.
Hmmph says another who is miffed.
And lastly comes the final vote...
An Implementor's rift.