William the Bloody
William was quiet.
A shy little man,
With glasses and his nose in a book.
William would write,
In dark black ink,
About places and people he loved.
Then the day came when William looked up.
He looked up at the book he had read...
The world was not fair, the world was not just...
The world was not all he had hoped.
He found his words no longer meant love.
They were cast aside and mocked.
So William grew weary
Too weary to fight,
And retired his pen before dawn.
But by dusk he met a woman.
A strange new woman
Who promised him lust and love.
So he took the new woman and all of her lust,
Without a second thought.
But strings were attached, they always are.
And William had to pay.
No more quiet habits,
No more shy little man,
No more glasses, nor noses in books.
Thus (so) his black ink ran dry and his ledger filled up.
His ledger filled up with red.
William grew brutal.
Impulsive and cruel.
With no reins to hold him back.
He got his revenge,
Right then and there,
On the world he had hated so much.
William was quiet.
A shy little man,
With glasses and his nose in a book.
But he no longer wrote,
In dark black ink
About places and people he loved.
He used to write poems that came from the heart,
But now...Things had changed.
No more poems in heart felt verse.
Just blood.
Blood in which he submersed.