Now here you can put any Ryhme you want within these rules:
1) Don't post anything about someone else that will disgriminate said person. 2) If you take something from a book then lease tell us tha you didn' make i. 3) Please try no to repeat another Ryhme. 4) Eveything else you need to know is in the acual rules for the site Forums and this Forum.
Now remeber this is not a conest to see who makes the best Ryhme. Also by Ryhme I mean : Poems, Sayings, or anything else you can think of that Ryhmes and is not spam.
Here is one for you to read that I go from a book:
Devil's Footsteps-
One in Fire. Two in Blood. Three is Storm. Four in Flood. Five in Anger. Six in Hate. Seven Fear and Evil Eight. Nine in Sorrow. Ten in Pain. Eleven Death. Twelve life Again. 13 steps o the dark mans door, Won't be turning back no more...
No one else would read ha book but me even though it wasn't scary at all.
But it is Tussla who has it all wrong, he shall die as I sing my victory song
his situational perception lost with such obliviousness comes a cost he'll be bitten by teeth of frost his grave remaining unembossed
Chill's icy tendrils will strangle his soul freezer-roasted like chicory creole or human gazpacho in a quaint little bowl left to freeze and perish in a hole
With his Fate, Chill must see, That blood and death bring me glee. I will see you entrails posted, And I will see you heart roasted.
Your blood is my drink, in the morning, As I send you family into mourning. Your lungs I use to clean my plates, For your death you thank the fates.
I tear your face off, and boil it whole, Then my dog buries your bones in a hole. Your marrow I suck, out of your bones, As you scream five dozen tones.
But Chill's guile escapes you as you awake from your gory dream the reality - revealed! None of it was true And you've permanently lost, it seems for while it's kind of nice living in a block of ice you won't survive forever
But in this rush of bloodlustA your seem to have forgottenB I've burned your brainsC your legs I've crushedA trapped in your charred remainsC
the skull you keep is your own the guts you spray are yours you devour yourself obliviously your stupidity is unknown you thirst for death lasciviously
you're too primitive to win I'm the master of mind games you're in a psychological cell all the gore you're standing in is your own individual hell
Tussla may be more sadistic than Chill, but Tussla doesn't have Alt's mind-bending psychic abilities. Tussla lost >
