The Return of the Revenge of a Black and White Dream
Not the First Dream-Based Poem and Not the Last
The battle is familiar and major,
Yet extra ingredients were flung in the meal.
T'is this same fight
Trio of black and white soldiers
Came up with preparations of force
Molded with intellect
And mashed with innocence.
Only, I unintentionally leap in
And my behavior is camouflaged
When musical transformation's expected.
The aquatic antagonist
Now forms into
A human Anna Tagonist.
Separated from his/her temper,
The soldiers and I are dragged
In a large room and the path's a mystery.
At a table, we were passed guns
Each exchanging the amount of lives
As there are tiny Lincolns in Washingtons.
Her plan had to be stable.
My gun points to the intelligence.
Intellect to force.
Force to innocence.
And innocence to me.
Forced in barriers of silence,
The idea was heard:
We're forced to work as her hostages,
Resistance causes a percent of a bullet,
Less lives cause less strength,
And we had to die at once.
The four of us were shaking
Like it's the dark side of Halloween.
I couldn't bear to acknowledge
The direction of my gun.
The mental motion picture
Of me ending the journey
Of the one who owns my heart
Makes me move the pistol to my own cranium.
At the moment my last beat drums,
My glass is quickly refilled
'Cause I bent the straw of the plan.
She exits and we four
Sing the tune of our own "Brand New Plan."
Remaining as unseen as the wind,
We breeze out,
Yet use the guns
To blast out 8-bit enemies
From the Mushroom Kingdom
With one shot.
Out the final door,
We're in the midpoint of a Coliseum.
Then, the return and resteroiding
Of the commander,
Matches memory
And the Anna Tagonist's fabric mind
Became stainless from her own Oxyclean.
About the Creator
Monique Star
I'm not the most sophisticated adult out there. I'm also not the best at communicating all the time, but I do try my best to get my thoughts out there into the world verbally or nonverbally.
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