What you see isn’t what it is.
What you imagine isn’t what you imagine.
What you feel as your hometown isn’t the sweet hometown.
What is it, you might ask?
It is a clash between light and dark, sweet drips of fights.
A fight in which heroes fade by daytime
And only arrive by night.
A fight in where dwellers are overcome
By the convincing darkness.
A fight that seems to last as long as it wants.
What you see is the dense fog
Representing the dark.
Its only desire
Is to gain more followers.
The gloomy townsmen listen reluctantly
And become their miserable servants.
The lights are the heroes in saving each one of your kind,
Yet it can only do so temporarily.
The scent of the ash in your hometown
Is how the dark kills.
The squirrels that once used to live in the dead trees
Now have perished.
The rare, fluttering blue jays plopping into little bushes
Then drifted away into a never-ending sleep.
Ravens take the spotlight of the squirrels and blue jays
And croak deeply into the night.
As they sing dreadfully from dawn to dusk,
The followers quietly walk
With a tippity tappity tap.
As they scurry about, they seem to chat in whispers,
But instead, they exchange orders for their master.
How were they overcome by this way?
Well, it isn’t quite a mystery.
The bitterness of the fog,
Consisting of the hatred and foolish desires each human had,
Were enough to promise each one with good fortune.
They breathed in the fog
And never once breathed out.
They work for the dark
Working forever throughout day and midnight
Yet never receiving the pay they desired.
There is nothing else to describe how sinister the dark is,
Except for the puddles in the rain.
Yes, the ones you stepped when you were a child
Every time it rained.
The puddles feel of freezing wantings
Cursed by itself.
The dark and puddles are alike,
As each one is fueled by coldness.
Coldness from the humans
And coldness from the temperatures.
You wonder who I am.
You wonder what I am.
You wonder how I know of all of this.
Isn’t it obvious?
I am the one of the war.
I am the one of fights.
I am the one of calamity and destruction,
Quietly smiling to myself with each mistake.
I am the slithering soul
Of the creator of chaos.