just a thing i made i want to share

  • Rogue_pharsh
    26th January Member 0 Permalink
    Michael Fraim Sinister was born in the 1875 he founded Hit The Target around 1938 and a decent couple of years later he was hit by a semi truck in an unfortunate accident around 1958 but even after he still walked even after being declared brain dead people looked at him oddly they muttered words "isn't he dead" "it's the devils curse" and scientists tried to find out what kept him going what they found: a simple syringe of a black organic veiny liquid labelled "neverend" Michael Fraim sinister never died he never could die he was a dead man walking A MONSTER. and a funny thing michael would hear whispers most likely from the liquid neverend and one night it sung a poem and that poem stayed in his head forever.
     
    Death or not, I flood your veins,
    Regenerating bones and skin ablaze.
    Fires, crashes, and crucifixion too,
    You survived it all, and you'll survive me too.
     
    Drowning in oceans, where the sirens wail,
    Yet you emerge, resilient, the walking tale.
    Storms may rage, and lightning strike,
    But your heartbeat echoes, the eternal spike.
     
    Through the ages, wars and strife,
    You're the puppeteer, dancing through life.
    Poisoned arrows and venomous bite,
    Yet here you stand, the immortal knight.
     
    From the gallows to the hangman's noose,
    Death's grip falters; you remain profuse.
    A dance with the devil, a pact so sly,
    Yet you smirk, for you never truly die.
     
    In the shadows, where darkness breeds,
    You're the phantom, sowing immortal seeds.
    Blades that cut, and bullets that fly,
    But you persist, never saying goodbye.
     
    In the realm of dreams, where nightmares breed,
    You're the king, crowned by neverend's deed.
    Battles lost, and kingdoms fall,
    Yet you rise again, the undying thrall.
     
    As centuries unfold, and empires decay,
    You're the wanderer, the traveler of the fray.
    Through the whispers of time, a haunting cry,
    "You are deathless," they chant, as you pass by.
     
    So let thunder roar and tempests swirl,
    You're the immortal, the ageless pearl.
    From the cradle to the cryptic end,
    You'll outlive all; it's the neverend.