Tightly

You go in the mine holding your light,

You want to look for a fight,

You know where to go,

but you know,

mobs and creatures hide,

and many have died.

You hold your pickaxe tightly,

while you shine lightly,

finally,

a fight begins,

with a strange creature that wins,

they say that day,

his name was Herobrine,

your last thing you held,

was your pickaxe,

tightly..