Implosion
When you tore out my heart, it needed replacment
How convenient, a black hole seems to fit
The hole is filled, but now it�s gaping wide
My body becomes a plamsa, comsic glittering black
A sheet finer than silk, rippling in the nonexistant wind
Now all of me is gathered quick within
Oh, dear; it seems that I have disappeared
The act of implosion isn�t painful
But I am sore afterward
My nothingness aches and I grow numb
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Bad Angsty Poetry?! Hooray!
You think Charlemain only writes bad poetry in RPs? You're wrong! Horribly Wrong! I have proof!
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Lord Charlemain Richards
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