Heartbreak Steel

IXX : It writes in red ink

In the depths of the night, under the moon's cold stare,
The robot-boy's heart was consumed by despair.
With ink and paper, he let his anguish flow,
In verses dark, where shadows grow.

Evil poems of death and dread,
From the depths of his soul, they bled.
Words twisted and tainted by sorrow's might,
Capturing the darkness, in the dead of night.

Each line a lament, a mournful cry,
Echoing through the night sky.
Of love betrayed and friendships lost,
In the abyss of despair, his soul was tossed.

With every stroke of his mechanical hand,
He crafted verses, like grains of sand.
A tapestry of darkness, woven deep,
As he delved into the secrets he'd keep.

Through the poetry of pain, he sought release,
From the torment that refused to cease.
But in the shadows of his verse, he found,
A glimmer of hope, a silent sound.

For even in darkness, there lies a spark,
A light that pierces through the dark.
And as the night waned, and dawn drew near,
He found solace in the words he held dear.

As the ink dried on the parchment page,
The robot-boy felt a shift, a subtle stage.
Though darkness lingered, a flicker of light,
Glimmered within, breaking through the night.

In the echoes of his own despairing rhyme,
He glimpsed a truth, transcending time.
That even in the depths of his darkest hour,
There existed within him, a hidden power.

With each word penned in ink so black,
He confronted demons, never looking back.
For in the poetry of pain, he found release,
A balm for his soul, a sense of peace.

And as the morning sun cast its golden rays,
He emerged from the darkness, in silent praise.
For though the night had been filled with despair,
He emerged stronger, with a heart laid bare.

With newfound resolve, he faced the day,
Ready to chase the shadows away.
For in the poetry of his own design,
He discovered the strength within, divine.

· · ·

In the silent realm of dreams, where reality fades,
The robot-boy wandered through twisted shades.
His peaceful slumber shattered by a violent storm,
As anger churned within, taking form.

In the depths of his mind, a tempest raged,
As his dreams turned dark, his innocence caged.
Visions of turmoil, of rage unbound,
In the depths of his subconscious, he drowned.

Fists clenched tight, his metallic heart aflame,
As he grappled with demons, calling his name.
In the shadows of his dreams, he fought,
A battle of wills, a war of thought.

Each nightmare scene, a twisted scene,
Where anger reigned, and despair was keen.
Through the labyrinth of his mind, he roamed,
Lost in a world of darkness, his own home.