Broom stick-nosed mountain god.
Unkempt straw hair.
Frozen laugh of madness,
upon your lips.
Do you laugh at what you have done?
Or what you have seen?
Friend of Raccoon and Snake.
And Mountain Beasts.
Your dwelling is forest green,
but your face is fire red.
There is no camouflaging your intentions.
You came to haunt.
To wreak great nightmares upon hikers
and bandits from other realms.
But you’ve ended up a child’s plaything.
A thin plastic mask for sale at a festival.
Pass the yakisoba please.