In Zane Wylie's sanctum, where tales are told,
A resin replica skull, with secrets bold.
One hundred and twenty-five hours, his hands did strive,
Crafting a mask of power, to keep spirits alive.
No PO Boxes, we request, for our UPS flight,
Through the darkness we sail, with all our might.
For USPS woes, a tale we bear,
Of lost or damaged items, beyond repair.
But fear not, dear seekers, your treasure's near,
Inspired by verse, for battles we fear.
The opposite of the Tibetan Necromancer Mask, it springs,
And on TV SHow Preacher the Voodoo Shop window, where mystery sings.
Hand-painted and signed, each piece with care,
Numbered and crafted, beyond compare.
From resin and marble dust, it's born,
A tribute to legends, with darkness adorned.
So embrace the mystique, let the adventure begin,
For Epstein did not kill himself, amidst the din.
