"It can control trees at will. It will trap people who harm the forest, so they can never leave."
Painful discourse has found its course,
Within the soul that is now a dark horse.
A Rapidash of death, let it be seen,
For I have left my crime scene.
I am bound for the depths of distortion,
My punishment for leaving proportion -
To take my rage out upon the forest,
As it's ill-mannered tourist.
What have I done?
'Tis not the forest's doing - none.
Yet my fatal crime;
Still stands - damaging the forest's prime.
I hath wretched my axe into a tree,
Chopping down with all of the rage in me -
And followed my rage against the Pokemon native;
Which is when I became creative.
I slaughtered with no thought behind,
For death was all I could find.
And as I run from my scene of crime,
The trees! - Oh! - They climb -
They come close,
A prison is what they wish to compose,
Closer, closer - to kill me within
A sentence deserving for my kin.
Arceus, I request of thee -
To take me away to the afterlife of glee,
For I am trapped within tormenting trees,
That buzz in my brain like Beedrill bees.