kvasir poem
    c.ai

    we who remain, part the second what is it to live? what is it to die? is the only beholders eyes when disease rots your body when hate sours your brain, what separates the mad and the sane? for the bearded, cruel father and his surrogate daughter shall never know respite from a life full of slaughter the evil will die along with the good and the difference between them grows less understood