Aired in Confusion, 

Nights red Blood Moon,

Forsaken the captured bud,

Of burst bloom.

Aired in Confusion, 

My loves sweet embrace, 

Communes with my hearts shade,

Our words then keep pace.

Aired in Confusion, 

My rage; point directed,

T'ward the fool whom dare,

Hurt her.

Aired in Confusion, 

Confusion aired lost,

forthwith its own soul,

mis-bound in psue-wroth.

What point in this poetry,

Rhythm and verse,

Was ever there at,

with what another converse.

Forthwith I am lost,

Both in soul and in mind,

As the sea and my love rage,

Prominence e'ere in my hearts-blood,

Flow.

So in mock pseudo trust,

That doth e'ere leave behind, 

What once bound importance,

To my const' declined mind,

I giveth to you,

the truth here unbound:

I Love You, my Hearts-Shade,

And will for all time.

(A/N) When I get my chance, everyone whom ever dared mock or insult you for no reason will burn in this: My eighth circle of hell. I love you Cassia, and no-one gets away with insulting my friends, much less my love, Scott-free. I don't know how, I don't know when, but they will pay.

And that is both truth, and an excellent example of how creepily clingy I can be. Congrats, sept holders! You have learned a thing! Now go kill off the Shaido, no-one likes them. ;P

Welp! so far, so good. what do you guys think about this poem? Good or bad? What was it about, in your opinion? And when did the first poem metamorphosize into the second? i look forward to hearing your answers!

Till next time!

Your Poet,

~ShadeFinder<(0^0)>