Burning in the fire is the shell of a man.
A daemon devoured,
The face of a coward,
A treacherous fool who mustn't be honoured.
A filibuster that not even ogre can stand,
The stooge to whom I had given my own sister's hand.
Now call me shortsighted, for I hadn't seen through
The lies that he said,
The hurry to wed,
The lack of a conscience inside of his head.
His words were sweet but never were true.
Oh my dear Antoinette, how could I have done this to you?!
But fault is yours too, remember these words.
You let him inside,
You elected to bide,
Even in your own brother, you could not confide.
But to blame you to me is like a mouth full of swords,
Like a peasant complaining about a truly kind Lord.
I pity you sister, your friends are of no use.
Only there for the funeral.
After two weeks, whimsical.
No Daisy, nor Amy, nor quick-witted Percival.
Anger wrenched within me, threatening to break loose
Unless I take action and punish the accused.
In place of tears, blood runs down my face.
I mocked him in jail,
Reveled in his wails,
Repeatedly beat him with my trusty flail.
No mercy will be shown to the one you and I loath.
Rest in Heaven, for Hell awaits him and I both.
YOU ARE READING
Envie De Voyager
RandomWanderlust: Strong longing for or impulse toward wandering (Merriam-Webster) We often think of 'wandering' as the act of going aimlessly from place to place; it is okay if you think that, you would not be wrong. To me, it means much more than just c...
