Hurt him, oblivious peasant
And the certain consequences
You will not, by any means,
Enjoy the result of my madness
--- Yes, it is mad and uncalled for
But have I any intention
To understand what is considered
Good and bad, by convention?
Quite right, no, I don't,
For blurred is every logical insight
In favour of the primal instinct
To tear meat apart, to fight
Anyone who means any harm
To he I love with hellish passion.
Yes, for my sweet, electric love,
I am not above destruction.
Hurt him, harm my sweet blade,
And my forgiveness will not
Be given to you, ever, until
In hell I see you rot.
YOU ARE READING
Listen (Boboiboy Poetry One-shots)
FanfictionThese boys may be fictional, but their stories are worth telling. Poems about Boboiboy, his seven elements, Fang, and Kaizo. I own only my poetry and headcanons; the characters belong to Monsta.
