Your old Grin.

Ah, pity me for I have no pity
although you are the far weaker one now,
when you suffered me to come unto thee
In the authority of your cleric's gown.
 
Do you know you can hear trees drinking water
when deep underground, It soothes cares away,
a tinkling sound like some fairy laughter
where you will sleep easy, for all and a day?
 
Do not take on so, it will keep you safe,
from violent vengeance seekers like myself,
I shall allow you a moments prayer, or rage,
before stripping you of your oh, so rude health.
 
So, meet your maker you pathetic thing
As under your chin, I carve, your old grin...