Ah Hah! Ryokoame again,back with a Fan Fic Poem for DBZ. It's Mirai Trunks. It's Called Wishing on a Star. Agaib I say I do not own Dragon Ball Z or GT. You know I have but a cent to my name so don't bother to sue me :
Wishing on a Star
Trunks said goodnight to his mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek. They exchanged hugs and headed for their separate rooms. Trunks changed into his boxers and a T-shirt but didn't get into bed. Instead he lit a candle. Then he scrambled around in the dim candle light,looking for one of the few pieces of property he owned. At last he found it, under his bed, his tattered and cover worn notebook. The only private place where he could keep his most heart-felt thoughts. It was like a journal to him, though he hadn't written in ages. In the spiral spine of the notebook he found a ball point pen. Trunks opened the notebook and flipped past the filled pages that told the story of his life. He found a blank page and thought for a moment. Then he wrote what he felt,like he'd always done. Through the deaths, horror, fears and worries, his writting had always been a means self-therapy.
**Everyday I fear,
Will be my last one here.
When will it end?
When will it stop?
And if it did, would it start again?
I'm tired of running,
I dont want to hide.
I'm asking you now,
When will the madness ever subside?
When will it end?
When will it stop?
When won't it hurt so bad?
When won't everyone be so sad?**
Trunks finished writting the last sentence and closed his notebook. He hid his notebook under his mattress, for fear of Bulma finding it. If she did she'd know her son's true pain.
Trunks tipp-toed over to his window and gazed up at the stars. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and one perticular star was shining extra bright. Trunks looked up at it and thought about the invention his mother was working on. It was a time machine that was supposed to allow Trunks to make a change for the better of everyone's life.
Drifting off to sleep at his bay window, with the pale moonlight and the brightest star shining down on him,Trunks knew that no matter how bad things sometimes got, he always had somwthing to hold on to; hope.
Wishing on a Star
Trunks said goodnight to his mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek. They exchanged hugs and headed for their separate rooms. Trunks changed into his boxers and a T-shirt but didn't get into bed. Instead he lit a candle. Then he scrambled around in the dim candle light,looking for one of the few pieces of property he owned. At last he found it, under his bed, his tattered and cover worn notebook. The only private place where he could keep his most heart-felt thoughts. It was like a journal to him, though he hadn't written in ages. In the spiral spine of the notebook he found a ball point pen. Trunks opened the notebook and flipped past the filled pages that told the story of his life. He found a blank page and thought for a moment. Then he wrote what he felt,like he'd always done. Through the deaths, horror, fears and worries, his writting had always been a means self-therapy.
**Everyday I fear,
Will be my last one here.
When will it end?
When will it stop?
And if it did, would it start again?
I'm tired of running,
I dont want to hide.
I'm asking you now,
When will the madness ever subside?
When will it end?
When will it stop?
When won't it hurt so bad?
When won't everyone be so sad?**
Trunks finished writting the last sentence and closed his notebook. He hid his notebook under his mattress, for fear of Bulma finding it. If she did she'd know her son's true pain.
Trunks tipp-toed over to his window and gazed up at the stars. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and one perticular star was shining extra bright. Trunks looked up at it and thought about the invention his mother was working on. It was a time machine that was supposed to allow Trunks to make a change for the better of everyone's life.
Drifting off to sleep at his bay window, with the pale moonlight and the brightest star shining down on him,Trunks knew that no matter how bad things sometimes got, he always had somwthing to hold on to; hope.
