Poetry I write when I'm bored.

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Poetry I write when I'm bored.

Postby Hopeflower » Sat Sep 03, 2011 5:07 pm

Yeah, I write poetry and draw too. >_< I never intended to showcase any of it, but I feel this first one is one of my best. I may add more to this, if I feel like it.

---

This is a story of love and pain,
Where blood and death fall in torrents like rain.
With a horror twist around every turn,
There's no lesson here that can be learned.
Except torture lasts a lifetime,
When there's no one with a lifeline.
Listen well my friends, it's just begun,
After the intro, then starts the fun.

It all began in a small little town,
With a tiny little girl in a plain dress of brown.
When she met the kind stranger she never thought,
Of the terror and madness that would soon be wrought.
She invited him inside, gave him some tea;
"You can stay here a while, I'm alone," said she.
He gave her a smile and sipped his drink;
That he was more than he seemed, she would never think.

"Why little girl," said he, "one such as you
Should never be alone. This will not do!
Come, let me take you to my home;
You can stay there and play with the kittens I own."
By this, the girl was sorely tempted
If she had refused, the way things ended
Would never have been, and that's a sad thing to say
But she took his hand and they were on their way

He led her down a winding path in the night,
Where even the moon could not shed its light.
"Mister," cried she, "I'm too scared to go on."
"Nonsense," he said, "hurry and we'll be there before long."
So she stayed by his side,
her eyes very wide.
And when they arrived at his scary dark house,
Was when she suddenly felt like a trapped mouse.

"Mister," said she, "it is very late;
I must go home and shut the front gate."
"Go home," he cried, "you've only just arrived!
Stay a while, you are safe with me, myself and I."
"I really cannot," she said, backing away,
And that's when he struck her across the face.
"I'm afraid I must insist," said he, and the kind man was gone,
Replaced with something ugly, cruel and wrong.

He grabbed her arm tightly, filling her with pain,
Dragged her into his shed and threw her down in the hay.
Locked the door and said, turning 'round,
"You look so helpless, there on the ground."
Not quite knowing what to do or say,
The girl looked up and wished she could redo the day.
"Oh don't cry," said he, and she realized she was weeping;
"By the end of tonight, you'll be soundly sleeping."

And indeed she was, that poor little girl,
One of the sweetest you'd find in this wide world.
But he left her such a mangled mess,
The only way they knew her was her little brown dress.
He's never been caught, he's free to this day,
But if the villagers find him, he'll surely pay.
With that our story comes to a close;
Tragic, surely, for all who knew little Rose.

Now I leave you with a warning, a caution if you will;
Be wary of strangers or you're in for some chills.
Or you could end up like sweet little Rose,
Murdered because she was kind to all of those
Tired, weary strangers who came by;
All she wanted was a friend in her life.
But now her story's over, unfortunately ended,
And her family is left with a hole never mended.
"Gotta have a little sadness once in a while so you know when the good times come."
"Talent is a pursued interest. In other words, anything that you're willing to practice, you can do." ~ Bob Ross

"The future is always uncertain and painful but it must be lived." ~ Unknown
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