"Cold-Blooded"

Summary: Turtles don't shiver.

A/N: Forgive my formatting. Not only is this my first TMNT fic, it's one of my first real attempts at poetry. Well, at least I think it's poetry. Maybe I'm just too lazy to write in complete sentences all the time. I'd really appreciate a review. Constructive criticism is my best friend.

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Turtles don't shiver.
We are cold-blooded creatures
So it's been said.
And the way I figure it,
Ice pumps through my veins.
Body and mind becoming so numb
That I forget what warmth is.
I forget what it is.

Our home is cold now.
Desolate.

In the dojo, my blue-banded brother wages a total war.
Punching, kicking
Screaming.
Completely relentless.
Rage hurled at an enemy he cannot touch
And will never kill.
Self-discipline is a thing of the past.
He literally fights just to stay in control.
He endures until he is thrown to the floor,
Chest heaving,
But the battle continues in a place I can't see.
Our Fearless Leader is terrified.
Afraid to admit we've lost the battle and the war,
Afraid to admit we've lost the irreplaceable.
Forever raging.

Another turtle, with pounding limbs
Streaks across the New York skyline
Flinging himself from rooftop to rooftop.
Each ledge a chance to escape
If only he would step instead of leap.
The dripping stains of his memories
Leak from his eyes
And are captured in his worn red bandana.
He sees blood.
Always.
The blood that seeped through his fingers
No matter how he wished it to stop.
Our brother's blood.
Raphy-boy denies what he's seen with his own eyes,
Tries to hide from his blood-soaked thoughts
And the black emotions that call to him always, softly.
Forever running.

Our sensei sits in his room meditating.
It's all he does now.
Four candles stand before him.
Three are mere stubs of wax and wick
With dancing flames,
But the fourth towers.
Dark, and cold.
Its flame was snuffed before it really had the chance to shine.
Father wanders about his mind
Searching for a reason, for answers,
For a fourth spark of light.

It is gone.

He is gone,
And Sensei is lost.
Forever searching.

One more turtle.
The last one.
Cold-blooded.
After it happened I tried for some sort of normalcy,
I really did,
But the gnawing silence of an empty lab
Was just too much.
It can suck every ounce of warmth out of you if you're not careful.
If you listen too hard,
If you think too much,
If you sit at that workbench hour after hour,
Waiting for him to walk into the darkness with you,
It will take all you have.
And you'll just end up cold-blooded.

So our family of five is now a group of four.
A group of strangers all under one roof.
Sure, we could have been a family of four, we should have been,
But supposedly a house full of unknowns is easier to live in
Than a home devastated by the loss of a brother.
I dare to disagree.

Turtles don't shiver.