I twist my vengeance,
full weight behind the knife
His eyes whisper one last phrase,
something about forgiveness
I remove the blade
which displays fragments of struck bone
Watch the blot thirsty steps
consume his warm, spilt blood
I hope his senses feasted on the pain,
long enough, so the sting unbearable
His body rattles defeat
crippled by its own pathetic demise
I do not turn to celebrate victory
I trust the gods will condemn him worthless
A wry smile is self awarded,
earned upon the battlefield of justice
Alas my path to absolution
has many a blocking
His death is but the trimming
of an impassable wall
© Copyright 2016 Philip H20s. All rights reserved.
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