The Anti-Christ

A Tri-fall poem created for a contest.

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The Anti-Christ

You are no longer yours
you are mine
every single move, every thought
you each will have your chores
dare not whine
heed not things that are high nor haut

You must now obey me
your leader
the king of all humanity
in charge of land and sea
I'm eager
to guide and charge this vastity

Forget past dreams and goals
those are gone
You are mere tools that I control,
just objects without souls,
simple pawns,
my minions of whom I patrol




1st Place in the Pond Poetry Contest

A Tri-fall poem consists of three 6-line stanzas with a rhyme scheme of a,b,c,a,b,c.
The syllable count is 6-3-8,6-3-8.
The form requires little or no punctuation and can be about any subject matter.
http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/trifall.html