A/N: This was a sonnet I wrote for English that was dedicated to Bakura, though somehow it took a tendershipping twist. It's a bit choppy, as sonnets are not my preferred way of writing, but I hope you enjoy.


A Parasite's Lament

It bubbled, hot and sizzling, armed with passionate rage as though a volcano of loud feeling.

It seeped into the cracks; first soothing, then painful.

He manipulated the hurt, twisting it until the emotions were reeling.

It caused a sneer, a laugh, and a smile almost shameful.

However, in the quietest of moments, on the greyest of days,

A softer laugh would rumble through his chest.

The anger would be but a blur, a whisper, a haze.

These moments lasted not long, as it was not long before the bitterness would re-crest.

It was then that the boy would ghost into the thin veins of the parasite's mind,

Cooing at but a whisper as a cool sheet rested upon a rampant heart.

But still, the boy frowned, fearing being left behind.

His dear parasite was volatile and strange, as if it was a sort of diabolical art.

Quieter still, the parasite whispered his songs, promising sticky, sickly sweet dreams.

The gentle boy, knowing the lie, buried his crawling logic in exchange for gleams.