Jack Morgan
Skeletron Prime
I do poetry sometimes, so I'll put it here. They can range from kyoot to spooky to downright depressing, my brain just spews things out without rhyme or reason. Some will be based around my OC's, such as the Butcher's Boy like you can see down there.
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The Butcher's Boy:
The boy is laid to bed, after Dad checks the closet.
He is so scared by this house, from the creaky stairs to the leaky faucet.
But he is soothed, and thus he sleeps soundly on this night.
For a time he is safe, blissfully unaware of the things born of fright.
The boy awakens, as I step outside his door.
Unsure of himself, he gets up, laying his feet on the floor.
Walking to his parents room, he sees me as he rounds the corner.
He smiles, and returns to his room, comforted by his savior.
I slip in as he closes the door, taking my place at his side.
Although unseen by his eyes, I am his silent warrior of pride.
As he sleeps, I sharpen my knives.
And I watch, no small detail escaping my eyes.
Silly boy. I am not a mighty hero come to purge his dread.
I am the monster under the bed.
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Time:
Kindoms fall, and nations form.
Mountains crumble, and oceans flood.
Cities are crushed, and rebuilt of mud.
The world is changed by a constant storm.
Trees grow, and roses are picked.
Dogs run, and the birds will soar.
Wherever you look, there is always more.
Life is a constant turmoil, bright but wicked.
People war, and rumors spread around.
Family falters, and friends wither away.
Men go mad, lead others astray.
Humanity drives itself into the ground.
As they perish they ask why, and they search for a sign.
But I? I am eternal. I am their answer. I am Time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Butcher's Boy:
The boy is laid to bed, after Dad checks the closet.
He is so scared by this house, from the creaky stairs to the leaky faucet.
But he is soothed, and thus he sleeps soundly on this night.
For a time he is safe, blissfully unaware of the things born of fright.
The boy awakens, as I step outside his door.
Unsure of himself, he gets up, laying his feet on the floor.
Walking to his parents room, he sees me as he rounds the corner.
He smiles, and returns to his room, comforted by his savior.
I slip in as he closes the door, taking my place at his side.
Although unseen by his eyes, I am his silent warrior of pride.
As he sleeps, I sharpen my knives.
And I watch, no small detail escaping my eyes.
Silly boy. I am not a mighty hero come to purge his dread.
I am the monster under the bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time:
Kindoms fall, and nations form.
Mountains crumble, and oceans flood.
Cities are crushed, and rebuilt of mud.
The world is changed by a constant storm.
Trees grow, and roses are picked.
Dogs run, and the birds will soar.
Wherever you look, there is always more.
Life is a constant turmoil, bright but wicked.
People war, and rumors spread around.
Family falters, and friends wither away.
Men go mad, lead others astray.
Humanity drives itself into the ground.
As they perish they ask why, and they search for a sign.
But I? I am eternal. I am their answer. I am Time.