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Friday, December 30, 2005
Creepy poetry
La mort chérie
By Syers October
Your blood.
It is the colour of water.
Different from the others.
I bet it tastes different too...
You must be different.
An outcast.
I like that.
It makes me curious.
Curious as to who you are...
What you are.
Human?
Or demon.
Ahh... another world?
Another world in which you were once held?
I see...
They won't like you.
But I do.
I want you.
I want you to die.
Die for me.
Die for me!
DIE!
Oh.
You shed tears.
That seems normal enough.
But there is no need for tears.
They won't help you any at this point.
The only way to help you, is to kill you.
Don't beg.
I told you, I'm helping you.
Don't struggle.
I'm helping you, remember?
Don't fear.
It'll all be over soon.
I was right...
Your blood does taste different thatn the other's...
Can you guess what this poem's about?
I'll add a picture later.
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