Well, a bit. I was bored and acting all writer crazy-like to make fun of Bridget's whole storyline in the story, but I actually came up with a fairly decent poem, albeit a slightly morbid one. Can't WAIT for this fabled emo poem contest that I keep getting assured Ars Nova is having.
Heaves, heaves
As your bits leak out
If only death were as sweet
As you were devout
The paint on your portrait
Is wet like your tears
And sticky, like the blood of
Your realized fears
Stand straight, damn you
Stand straight, I said
You have to look pretty
When we cut off your head
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3 comments:
*shiver* I like it. It reminds me of Shostakovich and Tim Burton.
Yeah, I was sort of sitting in my dark room for hours...
I like the last stanza. It's pretty, in a Tim Burton kind of way. I like it. It's refreshing.
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