Disclaimer: DragonBall Z and all it's logos, trademarks and characters, etc...belong to Toei Animation and Funimation and it's respected creator, author.
I claim no profit or credit for the creation of DragonBall Z or any of it's intellectual properties.
Author's notes- A personel insight into a perfected fighter's mind and reasonings.
***
In the tavern of your mind, glistens with a sadistic light.
This wonder I behold at last the thunderous clouds light in your mind.
O life-slayer of thy souls to me boast not of your pride. For thou hath seen mine light and the house of death. From the tress of minds,
scent of death enflames my soul. I still veil thine course.
For am I from realization erily a wrong hath I've done, regressing my purpose and mission.
O creator, the heart-erupting, soul-jerking; liquid sighs for thy, the night be weeping
and the day be sighing in my sins.
All this calamity of grief from the sight of thy fallen grace.
My fancy a picture of your aching hands and arching hands, way-layeth not again.
To whom shall we utter what things within my veil of souls lost, to think of thy fine bliss.
Of your scarlet and your drawn creations of sin, none bath can cleanse.
What from the fragrant of soul of breeze of red, a foaming sea of blood crashing
and crushing against; me and thee.
Monsters! At you, I think with trepidation, dwell not for the crowd of life,
I shall sight a bloodied hand to these unchained men.
I claim no profit or credit for the creation of DragonBall Z or any of it's intellectual properties.
Author's notes- A personel insight into a perfected fighter's mind and reasonings.
***
In the tavern of your mind, glistens with a sadistic light.
This wonder I behold at last the thunderous clouds light in your mind.
O life-slayer of thy souls to me boast not of your pride. For thou hath seen mine light and the house of death. From the tress of minds,
scent of death enflames my soul. I still veil thine course.
For am I from realization erily a wrong hath I've done, regressing my purpose and mission.
O creator, the heart-erupting, soul-jerking; liquid sighs for thy, the night be weeping
and the day be sighing in my sins.
All this calamity of grief from the sight of thy fallen grace.
My fancy a picture of your aching hands and arching hands, way-layeth not again.
To whom shall we utter what things within my veil of souls lost, to think of thy fine bliss.
Of your scarlet and your drawn creations of sin, none bath can cleanse.
What from the fragrant of soul of breeze of red, a foaming sea of blood crashing
and crushing against; me and thee.
Monsters! At you, I think with trepidation, dwell not for the crowd of life,
I shall sight a bloodied hand to these unchained men.