The Creator of Madness

Jono Hill

Behind that mask of yours you hide,
Wallowing in self pity.
It's a shame that you decided to flee,
Leaving your followers stranded and alone,
Alone in a world very alien to them,
A world that you created to enslave them.

You shut out their pleas for your return,
Ignoring the torture in which they endured.
You loathed what had become of this rock,
Despised what you had forced to inhabit it,
Hated every little thing,
That was flung from your imagination.

It was your wrath that ended it,
A millennia of hell fire,
Storms and all,
Your rage shadowed only by your vanity,
Perfection is what you strived for.
But all you succeeded in doing,
Was tearing your mind, into ever lasting madness.