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Poem

The air is dense and smells of nitrogen is in it
If it wasn’t for great tension the smell would be sweet	
Towards the north great tower made of metal rather then concrete 
The vastness of emptiness likes before a great battle this area befit 

As two great forces fight it out in the sky
Supernatural thunder along with fire and brimstone will fly
As annihilating each army another will try
Back on earth old satyr next to dogs kennel will lie

His face is as gruesome as old moat 
With bodies afloat
He has horns and legs of a goat 
He has shaggy hair and worn out full of holes coat

He has rotten teeth and his back is aching
For mental illness medicines he is taking 
He tries to sleep but constantly he is awaking
He feels like his veins are set on fire and his patience if fading 

He not always had looked this bad
His visage was not always this sad
He did not have horns on his head
The cards were not so stacked against him to drive him mad

Once he was being of light
Whose form would delight
He was once as beautiful as he is now ugly sight
Unknowing what to do to make things right

By one small mistake that to him may belong
But it isn’t even certain who was right and who was wrong
And from that day it has been long
Since he was sentenced to sing unhappy song

But maybe he will rise again 
Like phoenix from ashes to be freeman
Or if not he will instill fear like dragon from a den
Because having nothing to lose makes one a dangerous man

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