Summary: Agent Bishop did something no one else had been able to; he broke one of the turtles.

Disclaimer: I do not own the turtles, simple as that.

A/n: I was bored and listening to sad music. Thought I'd give poetry a go. I remember doing some in year seven. I never was very good at it.


Broken


Hands shaking,

Breath quaking

Lost in crimson dreams,

Mind torn at the seams

Heart beating,

Memories fleeting

Words mumbled,

Snarls grumbled

Blood dripping like crimson rain,

Trying to remember, but in vain

Shadows come creeping,

Memory seeping

Limbs flailing,

Heart wailing

Bloodied hands,

Foreign lands

Your voice, whispering, hold on,

Familiar, but different

And never the same,

It's all just a sick game

I used to fight you,

I used to hate you

But now I am nothing but numb

Now I am alone, lost

Broken


A/n: Didn't really have a turtle in mind when I wrote this, so you can pretend it's whoever you want.