(inser Title Here) Poem by Nicholas Abaddon

My hand reaches out across the plain,
covering the world in my shadow
My blood is the cleansing rain
By my words spread the great meadow
Upon which the decisive battle is fought
for all the sin that has been wrought

Like a tree falling in the forest
No cry of pain to be heard
the sound as mournful as a dying bird
My heart beat once brought blood to these dryed up veins
now it clogs with crude oil.

Here is a raNDOM poem
I wrote while staring at a garden gnome.