Summary: Agent Bishop did something no one else had been able to; he broke one of the turtles.
Disclaimer: I do not own the turtles, simple as that.
A/n: I was bored and listening to sad music. Thought I'd give poetry a go. I remember doing some in year seven. I never was very good at it.
Broken
Hands shaking,
Breath quaking
Lost in crimson dreams,
Mind torn at the seams
Heart beating,
Memories fleeting
Words mumbled,
Snarls grumbled
Blood dripping like crimson rain,
Trying to remember, but in vain
Shadows come creeping,
Memory seeping
Limbs flailing,
Heart wailing
Bloodied hands,
Foreign lands
Your voice, whispering, hold on,
Familiar, but different
And never the same,
It's all just a sick game
I used to fight you,
I used to hate you
But now I am nothing but numb
Now I am alone, lost
Broken
A/n: Didn't really have a turtle in mind when I wrote this, so you can pretend it's whoever you want.
