Soundwave
A sonnet
The cold, calculating Decepticon
A true, cruel, twisted master of the mind,
Has slaughtered all for many an eon
Innocents, neutrals and those of his kind.
His crimson, glowing visor and cold gaze
For many a mech and femme foretold death;
His stoic, cold demeanor would not faze
As a despised foe took its final breath.
All he does, he gives not a second thought.
He is eager to serve his cruel master.
The cries and wails of the slain Autobots...
A twisted song, wrought from his own blaster.
So my dear friends, fear the name with reason:
Soundwave, the cold, silent but deadly foe.