Tash
Through the fog and mist among
the pastel shores that have known no sun
a darkened figure stood alone,
head hung low and as still as stone.
His hair stuck out in messy strays,
the dreary color of coming to age.
Wrinkled lines that cross his face
a wicked sort of smirk in place.
The roar of wayward waters crash
upon the ashy shores of Tash.
A made-up land of dismal gloom
to hide the figures that stalk your room.
Under the bed and past the doors
of the closets and years of yore
has this figure roamed around
scaring children from town to town.
Now this monster has come to rest,
in his agonizing death.
A slow and painful way to go,
through the raging inferno.
Melted souls and cries of pain
shouting out for a desperate rain.
Spirits begging for a quick demise
instead of watching each others eyes.
Death is slowly creeping in
while Tash is bursting up again.
Soon the monsters will rise once more
just as they did in the years of lore.
