Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Alex Rider. I do however have ideas that apply to Alex Rider and his experiences. :) I like to pick on him.

This will be a collection of poems describing the hardships and experiences of Alex Rider, perhaps not all bad. Don't be surprised if any of the poems don't correspond with a previous one. Example being in one Alex despises spying and the other he loves it. Just an extreme example. There will probably be some fluffiness, *attempted* humor, angst, darkness, etc. A range of moods. Tenses may shift between poems, same as point of view. Really, this will just be for any poem that pops into my head about Alex. Which I can think of a few right now.

If I feel there is any content requiring a warning, I will post it at the beginning of the chapter.

So I guess you could call this "Alex Rider's Book of Self-Conscientious Poems" or some long thing like that if you really wanted.

Chess

I am the pawns in this game of chess.

Each pawn being a piece of my soul.

The Hand of fate ignores my distress

As I move across the board seeking a hole.

I weep silently as each piece of me

is killed off bit by bit.

Fate ignores my desperate plea

As I make each sacrifice, populations to benefit.

The tyrannical Hand throws me to the black

But am I not on this side of light?

There is no way I may draw back

For if I do the guilt would constrict me tight.

Slowly I advance into the battlefield.

I bend and weave to the war-cry as if in trance.

To each weapon, strike, and spurt of blood to be congealed

I allow barely a glance.

I deliver a killing blow

To my opponent of the darkness

and the horror in my chest does grow,

For all the while I realize the world is as loveless as this game of chess.

I desperately try to reach the other side,

but the hole I spoke of has since filled.

I could get there fast enough, though I tried.

Still I carry on, for with desperation I am instilled

I, the little pawns

Have taken down the king

Ending the game, not with brawn

But with much luck and cunning.

But my experiences have left me with blight,

I am spotted, the colors blur 'til merged;

'Till the gray of dying flesh is yielded from black and white.

The horrors of the world orders innocence purged.

I feel my soul breaking and dying,

Both dark and pale, for by now I cannot tell which is right.

Each fragmented piece I desperately string

above the damning firelight.

END

So. Any questions? (Review) I will try to explain anything you would like. I don't bite so feel free to ask.

Why I chose Chess: I was just thinking of how Alex is used as a pawn and it got me to thinking about chess. Now. I've played chess but not well. So anything that is wrong, I apologize for. But a lot of it can be closely tied to Alex's spying experience. It shows, in a way, how the 'real world' is like a game of chess. Strategy, cunning, sacrifice, defense, offense, power, a dash of luck. (Wow. The number of times I have said "If I had waited a little longer..." or "That could've happened to me," or "OMFG, if *insert something* had happened, I would be dead." :| It's a world of What-ifs I tell ya) I feel the pawn fits with how Alex feels. But, the pawn is so important. They can mean the difference between success and failure. And I included the dark/black and white/pale bit as a way to show how he could be the pawns between both sides. The life of a spy is tainting him and stripping him of his innocence. Almost like he is inbetween sides. Prime example being in Scorpia. Then I couldn't resist the whole "Hand of fate" thing. I think it's fitting.

Please, some feedback? :'S Let me know what you think. As always, suggestions! What do you think the subject of another chapter should be?