This is a relic of a notebook belonging to Sergeant Garret J. Lysander. The front cover is black as is the back, and partially curled inwards, and the notebook's spine is noticeably frayed at its edges. The pages are old but not yellowed. Some have stains, however, of bronze and reddish brown hues, reminiscent of once-caked dirt or even blood. Some are stiff as if dried over, though the penmanship upon these pages is still relatively legible compared to the rest. The penmanship itself is simple and thickly done, spaced at a natural pace. The words are not rushed.
Though the words are done in a simplistic and at eased pacing, the sentence structure is at times broken or disjointed. The poetry runs in two columns on some pages or simply with a left or right alignment. Some pages are empty save for expansive grey-white areas. It's an unconventional means in that most standards of modern poetry are broken. The dates listed in the top inner corner of some of the pages are pre-Warday, but most explore the time Sergeant Lysander was on Sagittaron post-Warday. Almost everything questions the Lords of Kobol in one way or another. Almost everything is written from a first-person, informal perspective.
One of the excerpts is as follows:
01 Aug 2041
Apocalypticism
The guns and the young soldiers no longer terrify me,
The staccato-burst of explosions overhead, they no longer terrify me,
Overhead, the incessant drone, the incessant drone, the incessant drone: Raiders
Unending gaze, metal, blood, genocidal intimidation unending,
Centurions no longer terrify me: I forget of shock and awe.
Smoke, black as black, red as red, so colorful, chalky, acrid,
The fear of death, the conquering of it, fighting,
These things, they no longer terrify me.
The taste of burning in the air, the incandescent glow of a child,
Burning, his corpse turning to ashes before my eyes, they no longer terrify me,
But, the eerie silence of nothingness,
The lack of something, of anything, of everything,
The nothingness, it terrifies me.
With these two hands did I bury brothers and sisters, fathers, sons,
Mothers, daughters, comrades-in-arms, but who will do the same for me?
Who is left to remember me?
The nothingness, it terrifies me.
I pulled back the veil of darkness one night, a cold, dreary night,
Where the rains only washed my hopes away, and a friend, the only friend now,
I remember sniveling and a prayer, choked with tears,
I saw him with gun in mouth, waiting, waiting for a sign,
But the sign never came, only my hollow voice,
And then there is darkness, cold, and watching the pale of a pallid sunrise.
In the back of my mind, I wonder why that could not have been me,
I feel fine, eerily so, but the thought, it terrifies me.
The whys or why nots, thinking alone, altogether, it terrifies me.
Left behind, but where are the Gods to save us?
Behind me lies chaos, before me awaits torment,
At my side is the sickly, upon my brow rests absolving desperation,
My bones ache and my muscles grow weary, these sensations,
I wear adversity better than the tatters I claim for a uniform.
Apocalypse was past, is present, will be planned?
Why, why, why, do I stalk the scorched soil and seared sky for survival?
Penultimate answer's elusion, it terrifies me.