Killer-17

Many a weary year ago, When my hair was rich and black, Before I'd broken both my knees, And snapped my fragile back, I strolled into a forest, As cocky as could be No use in being modest, The world belonged to me, But as I walked down dirty path, I decided then to linger, For I had felt a wicked heart, Seen a tall and slender figure, No man was he, no natural thing His skull was smooth and white No mouth or eyes above his chin, He filled my soul with fright, His arms grew long like whips and vines, He wore a suit of black, I'll remember him for all my time, There'll be no going back… Who was this demon of the wood,