I don't know a proxy (yet), so this guy's fictional (sorry, Frap).
I suck at writing stories, so I'll stick to poetry (iambic pentameter if anyone cares), thankyouverymuch.
It came to him one night-he was alone.
Commanding him to go, It then vanished
And then he had no choice but to obey.
No name had he that he could remember
The faceless visage of It filled his dreams.
Remembering the last time he tried to
Escape Its clutches, he commenced to kill
Many Runners, Fighters, and others too.
Ending so many lives, he ceased to feel
Many emotions other than cold fear.
But then one girl he had been told to kill
Easily smiled at him as she lay dying.
Running from the death scene he then collapsed,
Laughing at the girl's foolish final act
And yet there was a pain now gathering
Standing in his chest it began to spread
Then his mirth stopped and he began to cry
So many people'd died, how had he not
Understood their pain and their suffering?
Many hours he curled up, lying there
Mad at his decisions, he then go up
Ever sure for once of his decision
Running now, he fights against It as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment