Well, before I begin, let me mention this is my first post on the site. And, I'm ot sure of the HTML here, so if I get it wrong, bear with me.
Mist pours over what was once your creation.
Once blooming in growth,
Now falls to the corrupt seed.
As dim, distorted light seeps through the coverings of this alien biome.
And in the depths of this dark, yet somewhat enchanting environment,
The man who only wished for beauty,
Sulks at his failure.
As he himself, becomes moved by what he once resented,
He falls into the darkness he wish prevent.
Even as a prophet foresaw it,
He need not heed the warning.
And now, under the seed of corruption,
He mocks the name of such a prophet.
Myself.
