A Symmetrical Poem
The perfect boy
The son of death
Already a reaper
But not all is well
This boy's name is Kid
Although he can take away your breathe,
And make your wounds deeper,
Mention his hair, on his knees he'll yell
Some of his rules are as follows;
There must be two weapons, not one
There should be four stripes, not three
And the twins should always be in a line
However these plans don't always follow through…
Both girls, 'different sizes', their existence he'll shun
The three stripes forever; he'll never be free
And when patty's misaligned, Kid is not fine