Well, I'm not dead. Yes, readers (if they haven't grown old and withered), I still exist. Poems are getting me out of a writers funk, so please enjoy. Their a bit dark (hah, a bit?), but hey, thats how I wright.
Disclaimer: I do not own YGO, Bakura, or anyone else. These poems, however, are mine.
Insane mistress, in deceptive innocence
Bakura's Walls
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The darkness of a mind. Can anyone comprehend it? Surely, mine is darker than any. After all, I AM darkness! Alone with my shadows, I wright. I wright and I plot. And why not? I, who have not yet recovered from my last loss to the Pharaoh. Without the strength to attack, I wright.
My walls are covered in my poems. Little Ryou never comes in here now, says the poems disturb him. An improvement, for hosts should not be heard or seen. Save for the occasional stress relief. Punishing innocence is a welcome distraction.
I am publishing my poems because...I want to. I want others to squirm, to feel fear. I want the Pharaoh to read them, because I want him to know what he's dealing with. Yes Pharaoh, I want you too see my darkness , and perhaps you will despair. Sweat. Fear. Yes, fear me. As you well should.
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Play MY Game
Author: Bakura.
Play my game with me
In MY darkness
Darkness is a force
A power
Rooted in dreams
Rooted in being alone
True darkness is what a child feels
When they are alone in there room at night
When the most vague shadow holds a grotesque horror
A chilling terror
Let me show you the blind terror of a child
Let it fill your soul, your heart
Let it govern your irrational thoughts
I am behind you, feel the chills
My monsters are in your closet
Their under your bed.
I stand in the dark corner, you can't see me
Look again, I'm gone.
In my realm of shadows
The game of terror has just begun.
So close your window
Go ahead, lock your door
It doesn't matter.
I'm already there
Time to play
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Red
Author: Bakura
Shining, red, glistening
My ocean is red
My vision is red
My eternity is red
Red with the blood of hundreds
Ones I'd known, and strangers
Enemies, friends, lovers
Red are my hands
Red are my blades
Red is blood
Delicious
Red will run your blood
Red your tears, red, red
Pretty red
Delicate crimson
Every vein
Every artery
Every thin string of red in your body
Will empty for me
For the thirsty ground
It loves the blood too
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Well, that was...Interesting. It seems Bakura has been spending a leeetle too much time in the soul room. Whatever, it gives us some deliciously disturbed poetry. R & R!