Hi guys! :D I'm trying to decide the ending to Metamorphosis (if you haven't read it, please read it and give some feedback on how I should end it - I'm in a dilemma!), so I'm sorry if I won't be updating it for a while. Hopefully I'll be able to wrap that up before the end of this year xD
This is a poem that I wrote for the RP rhyming battle featuring the Firstborn. You probably will have read it on Facebook written by someone role playing Reed Harrow, and that role player is me x) I thought, then, why not post it here? :P
Disclaimer: I do not own Cause of Death.
The Firstborn
The precious facon
Was more than an icon
The white, porcelain wonder
Made little Alex ponder
If it would be exhilarating
To drive it through a heart still beating
Soon enough, he felt it -
The sinews gently slit
The muscles ceased to contract
And he made his dagger retract
Blood. It was everywhere
Leaving nowhere bare
An angry crimson dyed the ground -
It was where he was bound
To live in for the rest of his existence
To succumb to his lack of conscience
She saw it. Pure evilness
Unleashed, utterly glorious
He insisted on ending his life
Yet she chose to keep his life
"Run!" She yelled, tears in her eyes
Sadness and anguish in her cries
He was lost, he was confused -
But he hadn't refused.
Launched himself into war, he did.
Sent people into caskets, not closing the lid
It was his nature, his calling -
Hollering to him, unwavering
Years of study, albeit grueling
Got him millions of underling
He used them, disposed of them
Marking none as his totem -
His totem is the same facon
Which, in his father's eyes, is an icon-
An icon for their nature
Effortless without nurture
Murder. It runs in the family
Trails in the blood merrily
One kills for cartels, one for art;
And he uses his dagger as a dart.
