Lord Loss sows all the sorrows of the world,

Lord Loss seeds the grief-starched trees.

In the center of the web, lowly Lord Loss bows his head.

Mangled hands, naked eyes,

Fanged snakes his soul line,

Curled inside like textured sin,

Bloody, curdled sheets for skin.

In the center of the web, vile Lord Loss torments the dead.

Over strands of red, Lord Loss crawls,

Dispensing pain, despising all,

Shuns friends, nurtures foes,

Ravages hope, breeds woe,

Drinks moons, devours suns,

Twirls his thumbs till the reaper comes.

In the center of the web, lush Lord Loss is all thats left

Don't eat me again!! I'll give you heartburn!! *pulls out flamethrower* See?

*blows out the pilot light of the flame thrower and consumes laughin' man* Heh heh heh... I win again. Nice one, KB!

It's the poem of Lord Loss. If you couldn't tell.