Nico-
He lives in-between worlds
Both the living and dead
And the Romans and Greeks
Doesn't listen to the rumours they've said
Who cares about what they think?
Words pound against metal ears
He knows that it is his purpose
To be their personified fear
His light shines bright in the dark
A wonderful ray of sun
Quenching out the evil
Before the darkness has even begun
His screams pound and echo
Reaching across the night
Drowning in all these memories
Not a savior in sight
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
And all who watch him can see
That he's confined by his stereotypes
But still oddly free
All who listen can hear
His whispers, screams and cries
But be careful what you tell him
At the end he's your demise.
-o-
I'm going to finish this horrible poetry series (I published these when I was eleven, but wrote them when I was ten-ish . . . my poetry has improved. Greatly. This is a load of trash) and then forget it ever existed.
-Dee