The End of the World

She climbs the endless cliff, below she sees the world she once loved burning. She scoffs at the burned remains. The starless moonless sky darkens in her presences.

She made this hell before her. It is her fault the sky is smothered by her careless, selfish ways. It is her fault the grass suffocates and wilts before her.

The beauty of the land dies at the essence of her dark soul. She leads death on a leash through the woods. The winds scream their anger and grief as she passes.

She is no witch, she is no devil. She is the decisions of the greedy, the choices of the selfish, the result of the wicked choices of man. She is what you must not become.

Me.