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Vengeance

A Continuation of Sorts to 'A Poison Tree' by William Blake

By Arvind PennathurPublished 7 years ago 1 min read
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I stood over the dead body of my friend,

Knowing it was my wrath that caused him to end,

Slowly horror overcame me, what had I done?

I caused the death of an innocent one.

“But aren’t you glad?” a small voice said.

“You wanted him gone and now he’s dead.”

I tried to block out the feeling of glee

As the monster inside me begged for release.

“It’s too late — I’m already out.

(I clutched my chest, writhing in guilt)

And soon enough I’ll leave you without

(Fear shot through me, turning me cold)

All your troubles and all of your fears.

(I shook my head, trying to block it out)

And everything that you once held dear.”

(The monster laughed as I tried to shout)

Finally finding my voice, I screamed in agony.

“This is not what I wanted, stop this madness!”

The voice merely laughed, reveling in my despair.

“Oh but poor child, this is all your cross to bear.”

“You are the one who let me roam free.

You, like all humans, are so blind they cannot see,

The true horror that vengeance creates.

You just renewed the cycle; it’s an endless circle,

Now you will be the victim of another.

And now you may weep and sore and sigh,

But know that you caused yourself to die.

You will be battered, broken, crushed beyond repair,

And soon you’ll be pushed beyond the point of care.

And so the cycle goes on and on,

Until there’s only anger and rage as far as the eye can see,

And I’ll be there to watch with glee

"As your race descends into insanity.”

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Arvind Pennathur

I'm a graduate law student with a love for the quieter things in life. I write on a variety of topics, along with the occasional short story or poem. My perfect evening? Give me a rainy day, a cup of coffee, and a place to sit and write.

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