He has eyes of a hot blazing fire

And hair as dark as the loneliest night.

He stands, proud and fierce, fit in sapphire.

Sword in hand, battling to his delight.

Swerving between the sunlight rays, light heart.

Through bright stars hidden by a sparkling rain.

A demon’s scaly skin, he tears apart.

He chuckles as it writhes, my nightmare slain.

But his heart is too free; it is too late –

He crumbles before me, ink is his blood.

Yet my hero still smiles, meeting his fate.

He closes his eyes, chiseled face stunning.

A page is turned – now he’s laughing, running.