My pathetic attempts at Detective Conan poetry. Hopefully you know who's who.
I do not own nor do I claim to own Detective Conan/Case Closed.
Heads. Tails. Two sides of the same coin.
Kudo. Kuroba. The same faces, the same hidden lives.
Conan. Kid. The two who will chase and be chased but never captured.
A regretful raven and a white-winged dove, living in a world of secrets.
A target and a victim, vengeance and revenge.
The two who see the invisible crow preparing to strike,
Ready to fight back-to-back, ready to defend the barrier around their world together.
A crack in the barrier, and a shadow snakes in.
A gunshot, a bullet, and the dove's wing is clipped.
Once more, and the shield around their world is shattered.
A flash of light, and an army stands to fight the crow,
Approaching the darkness on golden wings, spirits guiding
Into the shadows, prepared to die.
Battle cries and screeches ring through a bloody world.
Black and red mix with white as bodies dot the ground.
The world's guardians order attacks upon the weaker links of the darkness, making their way to the crow's heart.
The darkness is engulfed by light and a final corpse falls, the earth rejuvenating itself by its touch.
…And this is why I don't do poetry. Ever.