Hello, J. here with another story it's been a week or two since my first two stories. I am thinking about starting a multi-chapter story, after a few more one-shots. Just to make sure I have the hang of writing for people in other countries and or states. I wrote erotica for my friends last year and they kinda made their own story out of it, so I'm not sure about my erotic writing skills. Here is my third story, this one is centered around poetry, so if you don't want to read it, then don't.
Poetry
By: J.
My Death
I write this note, in desperation
Any water damage, is perspiration
Tears are falling down my cheek,
Her shrill call, makes me squeak.
'Come out, Come out!' Is her shout
'Why don't you come out?' Her arms crossed
In a "cute" little pout, to try and lure me out.
I look back and see a door,
I turn the knob, the door opens with a low creak
I go in and see what I hate, to shocked to defy my fate,
The woman clad in red, grabs my head,
I lay on the ground beatin, broken,
My head in her lap, my hair being stroaken,
She moves her claw, stained red with blood,
She sets it, on my throat, and coo's in my ear
'We'll be together, forever'
I close my eyes at this point, she had succeeded in her endeavor
I don't know her reason,
She committed many acts of the highest treason
I could not hold back, more tears fell
All I could think, 'I failed'
I'm not the first nowhere near the last,
And now I'm but a piece of the past.
A sharp pain in my throat,
Blood sprayed, dripping down my coat,
My eyes burst open, after all this time
She had been kissing me goodbye
Throughout this entire note.
I hate this being dead, with an empty head,
All because of this bitch
This red cloaked witch
My last sight in this life,
Is the sight of the love of my life, My dear Red clad Wife.
Battle Chant
Step up to me to face the heat
Or go back and take a seat
Crushing you is no great feat
Fight me and you will lie
On the street
Your skull will become one
With the concrete
So step up if your ready,
I only hope your luck is steady,
For you it'll only end badly,
I will cut you down
Gladly
For you this will only end sadly
1,2,3,4,
Stay the fuck down, say no more
123,456,
I don't need any fancy ticks
1,234,5,678,
I will bash your face off a damn crate!
Sword poem
I am that which grips the heart in fright
Cold and dark, as a stark winter night
My cold steel, makes even the toughest kneel
If cut by me, makes you keel
You should just yield
Or else they will find you headless in a field
Grip my grip, and dance with me,
The grace of water, furiousity and unforgiving will of fire,
I will cut you down like a stone spire,
Dance with me and we shall be
A sight to see
This is the writings of Crane, he writes poetry when he is upset. Everyone does something when they are upset for example: Po eats, Tigress trains, Monkey meditates. I write and read. The question is what do you do?