/lit/ - Literature

>>17503121
I can post a sample yes and i use Pentametre.

"The volley from Pilgrim’s rifle now barked
A burst of fury into the brute’s warped,
Bruised, and mangled excuse for a figure,
His chest unfurled as when does a flower
When nectar beckons bumblebees with such
Beauty, so too then did the putrid sludge
That seeped from the brute’s many small craters
Beckon the pests within who so laboured
To reveal themselves and seek a new host.
The brute flailed and howled, from his innermost
Core there spewed a song of anguish and of
Things for which one craved; success, joy, and love,
Things this creature could only dream he would
With his remains to act as the firewood
Kindle a flame that may ignite the pyre
That signals hence the end of this hellfire.
“Mother!” Wept the brute as his entrails spilled.
“Forsake me not for those people I killed!
I have done what I have done for I know
No better way to live, that I must go
To heaven in such a grotesque body
Instead of the infant when you held me
So lovingly within your gracious arms,
When comfort and pleasure had kept me warm.
Think of me so, I beg, and not of this,
Think of me alike to when you had kissed
Me for a final time before you died.”
Slowly and painfully the brute expired,
His memories leaked from his eyes and out
To join the other fluids, no sound nor shout
Escaped his lips, he was one with the dead;
Not one of them the luxury to shed
Their sour tears, they lay in perpetual gloom
Just as Satan’s cohorts had met their doom."