The Healing of the Storms

The Wicked Path Of Destiny - The Death Of Mankind poem

I walk the face of earth once more,
a mindless puppet; my strings are torn.
The creaky bones, the bad eyesight,
yet the chance to turn wrong to right.
Wars-a-waging, old man's guilt,
the world's now on more then just a tilt.
Parents weeping, children slain,
bloody thoughts, fear will reign.
I look in the shadows, a creature did lurk.
He whispered to me, hiding a smirk.
"Thou shalt be killed if thee can't find
the demon lurking in thou mind."
So off I ventured to quench my thirst,
of corpses piled with hearts-a-burst.
And on that quest what did I see?

The wicked path of destiny.