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
