The ninja emo child, down
from the distant planet of chocolate lakes,
in his darkness played joyful songs
on his piano, over canyons.

There lived many a fuzzy
monster liking to hurt said emo kid,
till one evenin' came his ghostly
crayon savior to them monsters rid.

The Purple Flying Turtle Of Karma:
he swooped in and gave lands peace.

"Was that an accordion?"
"No, I think it was a baseball bat?"
"Well, you just got hit in the head!"
"No, I--muffins! Shut up, emo brat!"

Wait, that was peace? Well, sort of--
once kids started losing consciousness.
Then, the beast returned to them above,
though not before showing some love.

Sitting again at his piano,
the ninja guy returned to flowing, singing,
shouting as suddenly something upon
his piano did fall and land,
shining, shimmering, glowing--golden
egg, to bring him joy,
and on it: letters, spelling a word;
"Fragile--" well, that's one he's heard.

And he held the golden egg up to his heart
of black-and-white, and clouds of color
dust formed and rained him full with awesome.