AN: This is my second attempt at poetry, and focuses on Thief King Bakura. Again, it's not very good, but reviews would be greatly appreciated.
A child raised by the village of the dead,
Their dreams took years to build but seconds to destroy.
Lifetimes upon lifetimes of anger,
You laugh because you know you'll never cry.
Emotions drained away like the bloodstains in the sand,
Scars and bruises hidden on your soul.
Endless days spent waiting- hoping- praying for salvation,
Salvation never comes and the ghosts never leave.
They say your screams could wake the dead,
Except you don't give life; you take it.
The clock keeps ticking but the end never comes,
Death never comes to those who wait.
Run, run, run, don't ever stop,
Chasing the dawn for the agony of a new day without them.
You swore the impossible- revenge for the fallen,
You don't fight for your life but you fight for your death.
A new nightmare with each new day,
And with each new night comes the dying remnants of dreams.
The stars don't give you your wishes,
And the child never raises the village.
The darkness calls, hungers for your soul,
You'll give it all but they'll want more.
The world of the living has never been your home,
You belong to a world far beyond your reach.
Would they be proud or would they cry?
Tears for the child who grew up too fast.
You carry their legacy and all their shattered dreams,
The village of the dead raised the forgotten king of thieves.
AN: Like it? Hate it? I don't think I'm cut out to be a poet, but hopefully you find my poetry interesting to read!