We're almost done with this T^T…Neah's poem next, and then it's over…but do not fret! 'Poems for the Generals' will begin in the new year! There is a lot of random-ness/my own implications in this poem - so if you don't understand a few lines, PM me and I will clear any doubts.
Je n'ai pas D Gray man. I don't have D Gray man. Simples!
Your challenge is to see how many D Gray man title references (or prospective title references) you can spot. :)
My puppets, the dolls I create,
To smite that God, the being I hate,
They'll aid me, that is their fate,
To recall three days of darkness,
That is my only sate.
Twelve others, my like minded kin,
Share the dream I have within,
The brightest humans, with the greyest skin,
They delve into my darkest zone,
That is filled with sin.
True demons, they are not my creations,
They are men, isn't that a revelation?
Filth, lowlife who live for desecration,
Of this sacred planet,
That is why I set this in motion.
But there are pests, those who impede,
My lovely reign, my mighty stampede,
No matter how much I warn, they never heed,
They will die clutching to false beliefs,
That will be the end indeed.
Never mind the usual annoyances,
One clown makes too many appearances,
He is diseased with darkness, yet he balances,
His black and white, the gray child,
The lines are crystal clear, concerning his alliances.
But the lines blur, and the darkness shall increase,
That angel of death wills my heart to cease,
I took his life once, tore him piece by piece,
He passed on his will,
Knowing full well I would not, because of him, find my peace.
Such cheek lies in their senseless scrap,
The clown does not see the joke in the darkness's chaff,
Noah is forever, it will have the last laugh,
Little by little, he will awaken,
No more shall there be a half.
Why the child fights on, I cannot see,
His despair is more abundant than hope, in reality,
As evidence, he called the Pierrot as a doll, the calamity,
Befell him before he could tell,
Darkness and Pierrot, join into this single entity.
Both the brothers, were passed into another,
One as a doll, one as a spectre.
Both forge him as the man he is, the mixed pearl,
But neither him, nor the apparition, can defeat the Earl.
"A good evening heralds a good demise."
One more poem left! Reviews will be nice – I will be thanking my reviewers in the last chapter! Check out my poll as well. Also, if anyone wants to know my update times for Allen's Birthday Week – there is a section in the profile about it. Check it out! :D