He dreamt... he was dreaming, he knew without lies,
He was hovering softly, and closing his eyes.
The clouds soft and cold, rubbing next to his skin,
On his back, a scaled set of huge ivory wings.
He liked to fly high, so relaxed and so pure,
All his trouble from real life could wait now for sure.
With no reason to sink in sweet tears of old sorrow,
He could always just fly high and deal with tomorrow.
It was a dream that he dreamt for as long as he knew,
Every night scales, a tale and two wings softly grew.
But this time it was different, this vivid old dream,
And from nowhere a big blackish horned beast appeared!
A big dragon, like him, but quite bigger and mean,
With an evil black smile, with an evil black grin.
And he jumped right at him with an inhuman speed,
And a sudden white flash filled with teeth filled with
greed.
He woke up on the floor lying next to his bed,
With a big bloody red mark carved on his head.
He stood to his knees and he switched on the light.
He put on his glasses and gained back his sight.
He felt dizzy and awful, and a headache begun,
He looked for the source of his ender of fun.
And right next to his bed laid a puddle of blood,
Reddish glittering with light was the crimson black flood.
In the middle there stood, like a shoal from the sea,
A small blood marked statue with wings open free,
It was a small blackish dragon with soft eyes of gold,
That he found in the park in a small blackish hole.
He decided to take it to decorate his shelf,
In his room with more statues of fairies and elves.
"this is not your place!" He said with a grin,
Forgetting he's talking to a mindless dead thing.
He picked up the statue that marked his soft head,
To the shelf with the other small statues he led.
He placed him between a statuette of a fairy,
Of green and gray beauty and hooves that are hairy,
And a doll of a small and depressed bearded elf,
With an angry old face and a bad imaged self.
The dragon complained "this is no place for me!
A parade of low critters, come on can't you see?"
"They are nothing compared to my great blackish self,
And besides, they are boring, these elves on the shelf".
The boy looked on the dragon, and knew that it's true,
He was right with his words, this small blackish statue.
For its fact and no fiction, the truth quite in store,
That the dragons are best from the great beasts of yore.
"So where would you like to be now instead?"
He asked blackish statue and nodded his head.
"With others like me of the same blood I should!
And not with these statues of plaster and wood!"
For some reason he knew that his words are quite right,
And he lost quite the blood so he asked with no fight:
"So now where would you go, ho, magnificent black?
Cause I'm really quite tired to stay here and talk".
And magnificent black smiled at him as he said:
"You are coming with me now so lay on the bed,
Because you and myself we are one and the same,
And together we'll fly above forests and fame!"
And the boy finally realized at this blackish night,
That he now would also rejoice with the flight.
"What should I do, oh magnificent black?"
"To the flight of the dragons with no turning back!"
And magnificent black looked at him with a grin.
His yellowish eyes filled with sweet righteous sin.
"Let go of your body, let go of your heart,
Let go of your soul and don't try to be smart".
The boy lay on the bed with a smile on his face,
And his heart slowed and stopped with no reason to race.
Now the boy rests in peace with no breath in his chest,
With no reason to wake from the last dreamless rest.

End 1:
And magnificent black still awaits in the dark,
For his next little victim to play in the park...

End 2:
And somewhere up high... now he knows without lies
Now he's hovering softly and closing his eyes.
The clouds soft and cold, rubbing next to his skin,
On his back, a huge paired set of ivory wings...