Ah, poetry. I've seen so much godawful poetry in my time that I'm quite sure it deserves a web site all its own. This, though, this is something special. Every little thing, from the spelling to the subject, is horribly wrong. Some lines don't rhyme, and there appears to be no predicting which ones actually will. Throw in a heavy dollop of melodramatic angst, and we have everything we need for a hearty meal of pure pain.
My voice did not take flight
I filled with a pain I could not fight
I looked out for his face
a mask or purest white
'Oh Erik' I called ' My soul is not light'
'My voice is not pure, I can't sing at all
Where are you to catch me as I fall?"
The only answer was Raoul staring in utter appall
Raoul's Secret by Alisa
Another poem, and this one actually manages to be worse. Don't think that's possible? Just take a peek at how the author has twisted and mangled her words to force them to rhyme. Cruelty!
One night as Christine lay asleep, Raoul did lie awake
in her gentle voice she cried, "Oh Erik...my love..my fate.."
Raoul in horror did Christine shake to wake
" That monster how can you call him so..That thing which to loath and hate.."