Why do you burn us,
shoot us,
stab us,
crush us,
set our biomes in ruin, destroying the beauty we hold near,
Why do you slay us,
when all we want is a hug?
A friend?
To play?
To sing?
Murdering us for the petty things.
When we go out at night,
why are you on edge? You have nothing to fear.
Nothing, that is, but yourself.
You want to know why?
I shall tell you. You are the one who digs deeper,
builds higher,
strips the land of it's wonder.
And nature, it will not have this, no no.
Creepers and spiders,
zombies and bats,
shellfish and rats,
skellys and men of ENDer,
those ebon shapes so slender,
they rise up, to craft the change,
that which you mockingly took away.
Well, you have the reasons,
the hours,
the seasons,
piece it all together, if you can.
Why? You ask?
To destroy our home so dear,
where the very pines sing among the snow,
is a treason unto itself.
This world formed you, you disgraceful wretch, it gave you life.
So why would you take ours away?
