(This is a story I wrote myself, there is no plagiarism involved)
Step 1: Copy
Step 2: Paste
Ie:
Four bros
This is a tale of four unlikely brothers
On an unlikely journey, separated from mothers,
To pisa, led by the architect, followed by a cook,
Then by a farmer and one who writes horror books.
The architect led his group, to design a grand tower,
However they left in a haste at an unnatural hour.
When the rays of the sun crept upon the end of twilight
The architect was due in Pisa in the latter half of two nights
They scurried and hampered the four brothers did
As they gathered their tools of profession, amid
The confusion, they left in a hurry
To the the alps they decided, it was all so blurry
It was the midst of winter, the ice was blowin
The writer’s ink solid, the farmer’s hoes frozen
They arrived at the alps just as a blizzard hit
The four thought to themselves “holy crud”
Traversing the snow, 16 stone in weight
Their arms weary, their stomachs ached
Trapped in this seemingly endless storm
Then before them an aura formed
They left the cold guided by the light
Escaping the blizzard with Pisa in sight
However, they came upon a crossroads and was stopped by a strange man
With horns on his head, pitchfork in hand
The man was dressed clean and quite the charmer
And out of the four of them he spoke to the farmer
“In life, what is it that you seek most?”
The farmer then explained to their strange host,
“I wish of endless land, with endless crop”
“I wish that my rice yields would never stop”
“But having such land would hurt so many,
Having such a monopoly would force lots to have not one penny”
“They remain poor, whilst i become rich, so i do not care,
Just give me my land, don’t be a square.”
“I do your bidding, your wish is my command.”
And so the farmer left his brothers on a path to claim his land
After the farmer left, The man turned to the cook,
“What do you desire?” Said the horned man with a humbling look
I want to be known for things that I am not
I want to create spicy food to trick those who do not like it hot
In a moments notice, the devil did not stall
He granted the cook the spiciest of meatball
Like his brother, the cook left on the path
To cook for unsuspecting customers with the meatball’s wrath
And then there were two, the architect and scribe
The horned man then asked the latter the same bribe
“I wish of a book of horror so frightening it writes itself,
I want it to be sold by the millions, right off the shelf.”
“Of course, Of course, your wish is to come true,
None will write better horrors than you.”
Like the two before him the writer left to write his dialect,
Which left the horned man alone with the architect.
The horned man asked “What do you desire, fame? Fortune? Power?”
The architect did not trust the man and said “I just wish to build my tower”
“I am certain in myself and what i do on my own,
I do not require a stranger and his even stranger loans.”
The horned man hesitated and looked at him with disdain
He tried to argue, but all in vain.
The architect, now alone, completes his quest to build his tower
Right before his time is due, right before the darkest hour.
Epilogue
“So what happened to your brothers” said the architect's friend
The architect said “ They went down the path of unrighteous men.”
“My brother the farmer’s land was devoured by ice,
My brother the cook passed away by eating his meatball’s spice.”
“And what of your brother the scribe?” The question remained.
“Why his stories were so scary, they drove him insane.”
“Im sorry for your losses” As the friend left the architect with his ale,
Alone the architect sat, and reminensced his fallen brothers, Devon Sam and Hale.
