'Tachi's Poem
A heart of stone in skin of bark,
A bleeding flower in the dark.
It's secret bound by key and lock,
It spills it's life unto the rock.
Hues of scarlet, black and white,
Watch your kin with eyes so bright.
Not weasel by nature, but weasel by name,
Don't want to play the heart-blade game.
His hatred boils, his pinwheel sharp,
Flowing moves, swift as a carp.
Bittersweet, his progress is,
But one's flames are bright as his.
Plan to pass on, the great black sun,
Searing fire, matched by none.
Hope he finds his vengeance sweet,
Eyes to mind, hands and feet.
For now I can do naught but gaze,
Proudly through a misty haze.
The door that little raven knocks,
Is one of scarecrow, flower and fox.
Y'all see a poem I wrote in year seven.