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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1068838
this dude really hates hia wife...
he came running past the tulips and the trees
he came charging, leaving behind a lasting breeze
he kept his pace like lightning, he had to get to the cave
he knew to go on fighting, for she may hit the grave
he recalled he had been sleeping and missed not a single wink
he now understood they took her, from her toes to her lips of pink
he let the tears race away from his face, the man was running that fast
he then saw the dark opening and now he was there at last
he knew that it was her screaming, he could never mistake her voice
he did not have any arm, but of course he had no choice
he felt his ankles burning, with the green grass at his feet
he did not yet stop running, until his mission was complete
he approached the cave, his soul within burning with hate
he heard her screams fade out, and feared to be too late
he saw two men looming over, what he knew to be his wife
he saw one man held her by her hair, and the other held a knife
he let the glare of the blade shine in his eyes as he kept his shadow discreet
he felt his brown eyes burning while they part her legs nice and neat
he could not take this any longer, and then decided to attack
he felt his courage rise as he stole the blade, then with no remourse,
shoved it in the first man's back
he smiled as the second man, with scare painted on his face, run outside the cave
in shame and sad disgrace
he helped his love right up into his arms, and kissed her sweet and true
he then took the blade to her throat and said, "Not them, it is me who must kill you."
© Copyright 2006 Heidi Stockdale (tsalagiyonv at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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