Vengeance Mort

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
My poem, as it is a tradgedy- does contain some rather gorey description, NOT recomended for young children.

Submitted: February 28, 2011

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Submitted: February 28, 2011

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As he strode along the street
No-one could meet his gaze
He was apart from all of them
In the endless concrete maze
He was once a happy man
With newly wedded wife
But then one day the tempest came
And the storm broke on his life
He was driving back from work
Just one corner from his home
And welcomed back into the street
By a sight that chilled the bone
His eyes were fixed upon it
People crowded round
As flaming tongues licked at his house
Or what was now an infernal mound
The throngs all watched in horror
As his wife came writhing out
The fire still clinging to her skin
As the pain threw her about
He ran over to save her
But the crowd, it held him back
She looked at him with bloody eyes
Her face, as burnt, was black
She fell down onto the ground
As life ebbed away
He broke the onlookers embrace
And promised her that day;
My love I shall avenge you
This hour I do declare
I shall find the one who caused this
I shall rip him from his lair,
I will string him up by the thumbs
Then break his legs at knee
He’ll pay, one day for what he’s done
To you, my dear, and me.
He shall never know true pain,
For true pain is what he’s made
I’ll kill him soon, for this my love
Cut his throat with rugged blade
For days on end he did not sleep
His thoughts all with his wife
And every night, would hunt for he
Who took her from his life
Three months he kept on prowling
Leaving not a stone unturned
The picture fresh in his mind
Of a lifeless corpse that burned
One night he stalked about the docks
The moon was full and high
And through the grief than never ceased
He sat alone , and cried
What was it he’d done wrong?
What could end his strife?
T’was then that death did beckon,
In his right hand was the knife
What was there to live for?
When he had lost the fight?
The knife rose slowly, in his hand
The blade glimmering in the night
Where were all the happy days?
Gone like a sinking boat
Perhaps it was his turn to go
As the knife-edge neared his throat
Nothing mattered any more
He might as well be dead.
Then he dragged the blade across his neck
Fell to his knees, and bled
Gasping in the moonlight,
Face to face with death
Once more he made his promise,
With his final dying breath;
My love I shall avenge you
keep the promise that I made
Kill the one, that did us part
With this bloody, rugged blade
As he strides along the street
Cursed by never ending strife
Out to kill the guilty soul
With his rusted, bloodied knife
His search it never ended
For no man did cause the blaze,
But he pledged his life to death
And in the living death he stays.


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