The Creator

 

The creator of mist,
Ontop of the monumental,
Come back down,
We've been waiting for you.

"We cannot see anymore, sir.
We cannot breathe anymore, sir.
This mist is bound to be the death of us.
You must take this all away."

The creator of mist,
Then made a path in the fog,
And beckond for them to follow,
But they had all neglected to come,
And so he went and the mist stayed.

He never knew why the men had stayed,
For there was a patch of blue skies on the other side,
And big fields of green to thrive in.
Had the men have gone,
They would not be extinct today.

The creator of mist,
Then filled the path with his fog,
As there were gasps for breath now far off in the distance,
And there were thuds on the ground,
And now all is quiet.

Stupid species.
He chuckled.

 

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