The Morg

Oh Dear Morg,

Please leave me be.

For all I have done is hide under my tree.

I know you must come for a sacrifice.

But all I can offer is this bag of rice.

You travel through the rift,

to come and see.

He who has wronged you,

and that he is me.

I'm sorry, dear Morg,

for what I have done.

Crouched under my tree,

I stare at the sun.

The beams of light,

they shine on my face.

As I wait for your embrace.

Dearest Morg,

You soon will see.

I am the demon of the rift,

and through your skin my claws will sift.

For my dearest Morg,

you thought yourself safe.

Tonight you will die.

Let's end this chase.