Look, a poem! Everybody loves those! ...right?

The Refrain

Tempt yourself not at the sight of
The mountain of dreams
Which will compel
Those who climb it to push
Companions from their grasp
To the bottom
In pursuit of its peak.

And those who lose their grasp at
The hands of their companions
Fall, covered in the snowy skin of
The mountain.
On the mountain’s canvas,
The blood and the snow
Turn into a forest green ooze
Which flies like paper into the river stream
And flows into the town.

The slime taints the water, which thickens
And turns into a poison.
The first townsmen drink the water,
And die shortly after.
The rest of the townsmen
Realize the others’ mistakes
And do not drink the water,
But slowly die from the thirst.
The water flows into another town,
And another town from there,
Soon enough,
Without a doubt,
There are none left
But those on the tip of the mountain.