1The One Who Loved Her:
Author's Notes: I know some of you are thinking that Beast Boy isn't smart enough to write a poem like this for Terra, but let's just keep going on with this idea. I tried adding some form of meter in here, and if you read it out loud, I think you can get the pulse of it. There's some internal rhyme, repetition (hell yes), and some end rhyme, and it's just a short and sweet poem I wrote... Nothing affiliated with Teen Titans, of course..
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans or any other characters affiliated with Teen Titans. Ownership belongs to Marvel Comics, I believe, and to Cartoon Network for hosting the show and to I would think, Warner Brothers. Under no circumstance am I going to sell, reproduce, or whatever else is illegal of this piece of original work.
Her name was Terra.
She was a girl of boldness,
as she ventured to places that shouldn't be ventured,
like the core of my heart
and the pit of my soul.
Colors, colors, primary colors
were what I see
and what are I see.
Still her smile plays in my head,
Still I see the yellow silk hair.
(Oh that yellow silk hair!)
And still the burning yet gentle fire that sends
sparks up my spine and
thoughts unlike other thoughts I have ever thought
racing through my mind.
What I see most
mostly is the blue of her eyes,
the majestic and beautiful blue of her eyes
(oh how majestic and beautiful those eyes)
especially when resting upon mine for the first time
Although... Those eyes,
I feel the nostalgia and hostility,
the sense of mystery beneath the playfulness
in those sapphire eyes -
those sapphire eyes as blue and mysterious as the sea she came from
(the other side of the sea she came from)
Colors, colors, the primary colors!
disappear before me
as I'm wrapped in an envelope of grey.
The girl that nosed her way into my life,
Our lives,
Why is she so cold?
Why is she so forlorn and grey and unlike
that warm smile,
the only definition of 'primary colors' I know?
She's red, she's blue, she's yellow...
Though now stone cold,
so unlike that red fire
(cold unlike the warm fire)
and her hair is in dead wisps
(definitely different from those yellow silk locks)
and her eyes are hard and grey
(uninviting unlike the welcoming tide of blue)
"Terra, you can't", I say,
for I still have faith in hope,
but the walls still go crashing down
and the grey still comes crashing down
and these scenes from my life are ones that should end
(these scenes must end!)
She tears away from the grey,
she tears from my heart,
she tears from my life,
she tore away from hers.
Her name was Terra.
She was a bold girl, a brave girl,
playing that game of sacrifice.
(How brave that girl was!)
and now I stroke her face,
her cold stone face,
without the fire in them.
without the sweetness on it.
without the pools of blue,
the majestic and beautiful pools of eyes
of the girl as mysterious
as the sea in which her spirit resides
as the heart where her lover resides.