So, guys. What I decided to do is write a book of poetry little by little. I'm going to write one poem, edit it, post it, and then do that every once in a while in here as a different part. So here it is, the first poem. Bare with it, my poetry skill will get better as I go.
You play the fiddle
In a strange, dark room
Nothing but silence at first
Until you play the way
In the murder’s café
The killers tap their feet
As they hear the bow
Rub against the strings
That spool from the victim’s skin.
And sings their screams
With a swipe of the bow
Isn’t this supposed to be full of woe?
Then why do they feast like kings?
And dance with wings?
You realize,
The Murder’s Café,
is in the heart of hell.
But you make it well,
with your killer’s fiddle.
