OK...a small tribute to my current favourite Pokémon Gijinka...Giratina! (With a bit of Giratina/Shaymin) Um...Well...Giratina is a poet at heart...but I never said his poetry was positive...
Angel with the Wings of a Reaper
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
The sun may shine
But darkness remains.
Light may fill a deep forest
But shadows must stay
Hatred...Love.
Are there such things?
The Renegade placed his book on his table and placed his pen in the middle of the yellowed pages, preventing it from closing. Almost as an afterthought, he picked the book up and added the following:
Maybe
But, one thing is for certain.
In my black despair, deeper than the nightmares,
Nothing makes sense...
The words spilled out, Giratina's creativity combined with his deep feelings, flowed onto the page:
The fragile, thorned, black rose
Almost close to breaking...
But, the dark despair is...
Hate!
Cold, poisonous hate!
It fills me! Embraces me!
Consumes me in its touch which equals
The bite of a venomous snake.
Spiralling down...down...
Down into despair and insanity.
Reason lost!
Cold fingers touch the asylum
That is my mind;
It is unescapable!
The Renegade paused; his red eyes were flashing in passion and the fire rose as his writing spoke volumes;
"...Too much to bear..."
But...snow in the summer dawn!
A single storm in the path of the moon!
The call of an owl does not affect!
Hatred...love...cold...warmth...
These things cause my mind to creak and groan
Under the pressure of such thoughts...
!
Snap! There goes all reason...
Black abyss...dark voids...
Mew!
Help...for this dark...dark despair is too...
Too Much!
It burns me with its loathsome touch!
...Whispers are echoing through...
Bloodied words...covered with sickeningly sweet honey.
The signs...
Are they not there!
He will arise...
And He will give me a final rest from this unending, spiralling despair...
I want to sleep eternally...
Sleep...
Sleep...
Abruptly, as if he has spoken too fast, the Renegade hastily set aside his book, standing up with the grace of many eons worth of practice. Gliding from the room, he barely noticed his white haired wife head towards the room he had recently vacated.
It was too late when he realised that he had left his ancient book open.
Shaymin caressed the yellowed pages of the opened book on the table gently, her face pale as she read the words imprinted on several pages by her Reaper husband.
She had realised he was depressed...but this bad...?
To her, her beloved's mind was in turmoil, in so much pain, equalled maybe by Darkrai. His delicate mental stability was something she liked to compare with a black rose that had steel imbedded in it; whenever it snapped, it rebuilt itself gradually, blocking away all the grief and general emotions.
But, she knew deep within her heart, that one day he would have an entire mental collapse; he would go mad.
But, then the rose would gather itself together and steel itself all over again...bitter to the world.
Sighing sadly, Shaymin stood up and walked away from the cursed book, yet one part of it rang like a gong in her mind:
"...He will arise...
And He will give me a final rest from this unending, spiralling despair...
I want to sleep eternally...
Sleep...
Sleep..."
The Gijinka stared into the fire and let her mind wander...
"...Sleep...
Sleep..."
OXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Well, a bitterly negative Fiction by moi!
WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!
...anyway :D
Barda'sFailings