An Ode to L
By C
A man of many faces
A man of many names
Among those fake puppets,
There is a real master.
With a real face
And one name
That is only a letter.
L. Lawleit.
The Twelfth Letter.
'The Last One.'
One 'who stands alone'.
One 'without a successor'
'The Lost One.'
One 'dropped from heaven by some omnipotent being.'
An enigmatic lone wolf detective
With an extraordinary sweet tooth.
Oh, L. How we love his eagle-like crouch on the chair.
His snow-white pale complexion.
His white long-sleeve sweater and blue denim jeans.
His messy mop of charcoal hair.
And his big, empty black-hole insomniac eyes.
His martial arts are imparallel
With one precise roundhouse kick to the face, Kira fell.
Under the death god's sardonic stare
His impending death, beware.
