Just For You Poetry

Beware, beware, the Wizard comes!
We allowed him a free reign.
Thought he'd raise us from our slums,
but alas, he brings more pain.

Rue the day when the Wizard, fair,
sought to cure us of despair.
Hidden smirks while smiling wide;
we, made blind, because of pride.

Wind, it riles and rises high,
and all the while his ire grows.
With stony gaze, he plies the sky,
and rife with lies, he weaves our woes.

He comes, he comes, the Wizard, cruel,
pretending to follow the Golden Rule,
but consigns us, he, to lesser roles;
taking his want while scrawling in scrolls
(and chuckling, he; our fate he controls).

Wizard, harsh, vile-runed and glyphed.
Vexed, he works his magic, strong,
sending forth retribution, swift.
What once was right is now made wrong.

Warlock rumble and shake the night!
Wracked with shudders, horrors alight
on withered branch, on broken stone.
Leech the strength from marrow'd bone.

Ground uprooted, quaked and cracked,
stacked, the broken bodies rot.
They crossed his malevolent path and lacked
protection from his foulness, wrought.

As thieves are thick, don't be too quick
to fall for all the Wizard's tricks
(our time, diminished; the clock's last tick).
Though swift his smile, he glowers faster,
seeking dominion, that damned spellcaster!



Beware, beware, and wretched, feel
the anguish that will make you squeal
when the Wizard holds you in his stare;
nigh, the end, he gives not a care.