I wrote a poem. Since writing rhyming poetry is not my strongest point, lets be frank, I just present it as the fruit of my recently troubled mind. And as I was having tons of fun writing this, be prepared for more creepy, bad, but emotional and boiling with sarcasm (he?) poetry.
<——- And this is how I felt and looked like. Maybe with better hair^^
The topic of the poem: all the current situation in Korea after all men are gone to serve their country. Eh…
Taehanminguk Army, You! the uttermost ferocious lover!
You claimed into your embrace flowers of the youth!
This is from your treasure box most twisted maneuver,
so I need to shoot my sorrows with some dry vermouth.
You claim them one by one, like flowers in Spring,
you lure them with lilting and enchanting song,
You tie those left behind with unbending string,
so they are left with nothing, xcept for waiting long.
And there is spring no more where flowers were blooming,
there are no sweet nightingale’s songs in the midnight hours.
Where there was a light then, now a green mist glooming
and hurling under the windows adorned with flowers.
Through desolated places some phantoms are roaming,
claiming this land belongs to them when no Kings around.
They can dishearten people in fear of their looming
threats of more like them. And their words resound.
Kings went far away, in no-(wo)man’s land.
Their castles go empty as the Moon is changing,
their fields are nowadays arenas for feisty hares’ band,
their followers are slowly like horizon – hazing.
You, how can we ever stand above you, Lady!
You take the pleasure from those bended backs
of those, who so proudly rode through those sandy
land and luscious forests, not fearing attacks.
But now the shady army of spectres appeared,
unfurling slowly their pastel-pink banners.
Now quiet, admiring days just suddenly queered,
and days of horror are sounding with hammers.
The hammers that shackle enslav’d people’s will
are beating through nights all filled with terror.
The creeps are making their powerful Mill,
that will crush down older Rulers error.
What left is? Just waiting and forging resistance
to all of those hammers and shackles and bread.
Kings can rely on our assistance
when they will be back and blood will be shed.
They will leave you, Lady! temporary fickle!
They will return to what is rightfully theirs.
They will vanquish the weaklings with one blow of the sickle,
and then they will announce few more proper heirs.
All rights: me^^
Source: what’s happening with K-entertainment and my sick mind.