A Little Rhyme-o-mancy 2
Don King At Night
The King of Transylvito sat alone.
"Poor Slately's doom," he sighed, "is now my doom."
He listened for it, coming to his throne.
The monster -- Truth -- was breathing in the gloom.
He dropped his cup. "There comes a time," he said.
"When into every reign some rain must pour."
The Transylvino, spilling, plain and red,
Bled out, like Parson Gotti, on the floor.
"And to my Number now, I must be true."
"You hear me, Beast? I'll have my victory!"
But Truth is cold, and when its debts come due.
It only deals in harsh reality.
A deal that only laughing Fate might choose,
An offer that a Don cannot refuse.
(Note: user was awarded 15 Shmuckers for this post. -Rob)
I very much liked, but I have one major, MAJOR complaint.
Completely ruined it for me.
... You used the same title for this blog post and your last poetry one! So when I went to update this to your entry in my fanfiction list I thought I was either psychic or insane (well, I suppose "both" is also an option on that one), since it looked nearly identical to the earlier one.
Just for comparison.
There's only a single digit of difference between the yawning abyss of madness and a clerical error.
I just put in a little note so people know they're different, but next time, add a 3.0 to it or something.