With a mighty breath of blaze,
That sends the fields a haze,
Flickered with scorching light.
His scales; razor sharp,
Though his songs as sweet as a harp,
Sounded when he bellowed at the sky.
His treacherous Talons,
Spilling blood in gallons,
Shone crimson in the sun.
Great battles lost and won,
The final clash has begun,
A formidable foe has risen.
The battle was long and harsh,
Though like a piercing dart,
Shot forth his opponent.
Through his final ragged breaths,
Of fear, hate and regret,
His crimson life spilled onto the snow.
Author's notes: just something me and my group wroth in class, I didn't write all of it, but my group and I did.