A/N: I was visiting one of the art museums and thought of this for Vergil. There is a painting of a little boy blue. A child wearing satin blue clothing. It's really nice too.


Vergil: Little boy blue


Trained at an early age

Making up for lost time in a moments rage

He breaks not a sweat upon hells open ground

And he was no where to be found

…and so they try and break him

Disappearing late one evening frost

Along with a mothers loving cost

Separating two silver boys at an early age

Oh what can evil be devising at this stage?

His name belongs to Sparda's line

So trained is he at swordsmanship so refined

Not one drop of demons blood around

And he makes his way upon that open ground

Upon hells open fiery lounge

Stimulating his technique, refining his physique

His name is Vergil and there is no mystique

To show the demons among his race

Imagining not a moments fright to erase

Cocky and self assured he be

All the hells monsters have let him be

To a god in the name of Mundus so powerful

He was serving and lies so full

Side by side with Phantom

Tolerating presence that none could fathom

Treading on hells most foul ground

They make way for the demon whose blood

Could not be found

...Still they try and break him

His face a mask of sin

And beauteous silver metal despair

An unquestionable lair

No longer a boy so blue

Or so they thought him as was his due

Has spent his years refining

To find a way back home

Has he heard Mundus designing

To break the barrier of hells dome?

One day returning to get back home

Honed in the art of fighting

His blue eyes alighting

Nightmare and Griffin scorn this dark knight

Slowly burning in their hatred blight

...They were not the first to try and break him

Vergil delivered unto the worlds throes

And those who hear his name no longer know

The boy with silver gilded hair,

Slicked back against his adversaries and foes

In a realm of demons that do not dare

To whisper his name in the darkness

Of hells open brackish ground

Not one soulless creature makes a sound

As Vergil walks into the black light of day

To make one soul pay

Eyes white heat blue in that back drop

Armored heavily against the strain of his job

And no one dares to make whispers

On hells open fiery ground

His new name in the birth of a shroud

Nelo Angelo replaced a boy so blue

His mother never had a clue

...and still they try and break him

End