Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Winding through a forest

Is a path, with as many branches,

As the trees to either side,

And this one doesn't try to hide,

But has never been given many chances.



And on it walks one man,

Walking all alone,

His head held high and mighty,

Though his hair is colored lightly,

And he shows an unusual tone.



And he keeps walking,

Through the forest,

Gathering up the fallen leaves

And growing thousands of new trees,

Helping it to become its best.



Bald and evil vultures soar,

Flying above the one man's head,

Trying to stop the rising star,

From letting the world progress so far,

Because they live to feast on the dead.



And he keeps walking,

With little regard to his foes,

Writing the truth in the tree bark,

Doing his best to leave a mark,

That will guide those through their lows.



And the vultures carry

Onward, Upwards, feeding on dead

Following that guilty man,

I bet this end you didn't plan,

THEY TOOK OFF WITH HIS HEAD
Did you expect it?

— The End —