Poor Marcus...
Poem/story by: Jack Arnett
Upon the twilight to your life, the gleam of steel ends your strife.
Gurgling blood upon your lips, convulsions break your body whips.
Slip now to darkness, my dearest Marcus,
the blade its sharpness meets your flailing carcass.
This dish so cold, like your fleeting soul.
Vengeance mine, I drink my wine.
It´s time to die, don´t think to ask why.
Too late to cry my dearest Marcus.
Too late indeed as you lay there and bleed.
I think we agree, I concede, no need to plead for all your greed.
The reapers here, no more fear.
It´s crystal clear the bell has rung, go to hell and rot and be forgot.
Fare thee well into this night.
Gone now and out of sight.
About the Creator
Jack Wayne Arnett
I enjoy writing in many genres. My favorite is horror, but I also enjoy poetry, romance and military life. I love the challenge of writing outside my comfort zone as a challenge. I live in Riverside, California and have 5 daughters.
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