Firstly/Formostly, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my two new readers, Catakit (computers are dumb and the bane of our generation) and Aura of the Silver Tears (Thank you thank you thank you. That is near to the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.)

Unfortunately and completely unintentionally, I have evidently lost some of you with this "Not-The-Format-You're-Used-To" thing. Allow to explain, using this chapter as an example.

Question Numero Uno: Who is talking? Answer: Beast. See his 'name' in the title? He (or whoever is the 'poet') narrarates the whole poem. Every word is his. Even if the 'poet' is talking to someone, their words will not be in the poem.
Question Numero Dos: Who the heck is Tousle and who the heck is he talking to? Answer: Um, you'll find that out later.
Question Numero Tres: Why are some poems better than others? Answer: Sigh. Okay, I admit it. When I sit down to write a poem, it isn't always as cool on paper as it was in my head. Sometimes it isn't even cool in my head. My main goal is to tell the story and I can't rewrite poems without messing everything up, so I'm sorry, but you'll have to learn to be satisfied with this.

Just let me know if you're still unclear about anything.

I am awfully sorry that it's taken a month for this baby. Computer on the fritz.

WARNING: Angst and overall lack of correct grammar.

Claimer: It's all mine, except the original concept of the Beast.


Beast: Scream

I will never forget

the very first scream

so awful, it should've

been a dream

the poor girl recoiled

as she took in a face

then ran and ran

to a happier place

o, that I could run

from it as well

it gives me pain

I cannot tell

when I look in a mirror,

I find a tear in my eye

am I so ugly that

I would make myself cry

the only peace I get

is in a dream

I will never forget

the very first scream


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