Vengeance
Confused bewildered she stood before,
The man with whom her passions were born.
Born on a night so long ago,
When her life was easy, never low,
Like a bubbling brook as it ebbed and flowed,
Over the chattering stones that lay below.
His words were clear, his tone abrupt.
To him the argument now was lost,
As his voice tore down her self-respect
And he said his love for her was dead.
He crushed her pride, destroyed her life,
Left her soul in limbo to die.
He walked away that horrid morn
Determined never to return to her door.
But like a phoenix from the ashes,
She rose in a splendid act of passion.
And took the knife from where it lay
On yonder table, so he could pay
For his deeds of deceit and lies
As no longer could he hide
From the truth of his infidelity.
As the knife plunged deep within his flesh,
And blood poured out from the jagged edge.
She sat and wept upon his breast,
For the love he'd chosen too forget.
The sirens wailed, the blood still flowed,
As his life now ebbed and failed.
Where the years she spent in jail,
Justice for this common tale
Of deception and pretense
That man has long tried to inflict
On lovers of every nation?
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Vengeance, which
was posted on May 16, 2011 by
Cazoe.
This is a solo poem.
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