Mistaken, misled,
A soul of allure,
The rumour was spread,
Denounced as impure.

Foul and fierce,
Estranged from them all,
Sadness, no tears,
No person would call.

Baron and beat,
Time’s taken it’s dues,
Left out like old meat,
Revenge to ensue.

Hide up the hill,
Caved in all around,
Madness instilled,
Keep feet on the ground.

Moonlight and magic,
Surges the air,
The effects will be tragic,
Death, danger, despair.

Words and wishes,
The night comes to life,
A magical business,
A slice of a knife.

Collect and complete,
Moonlight turns red,
A traitor’s defeat,
Now turmoil will spread.

Remember, recite,
Bad deeds that were made,
This one haunting night,
Those deeds were repaid.

pull out the knife,
from where you slid it in my side.
Let the blood,
rich and rosy,
drench your hands,
a reminder, a memento
to the times we passed
untainted, warm in the sun.
Avert your eyes,
from my prostrate pain,
out of sight,
you can raise your head,
pretending the role you played
didn’t bring me down.

It’s actually quite fun
throwing mud,
if you can accept it
sticks sometimes
to your own slow fingers,
staining them.

But gather it all up
in handfuls,
dirt, wet for preference,
delightful
as missiles targeted
away there:

At the dark heart hated
by us all
and by all means repeat
the treatment,
until the target becomes
the victim.

There. Hopefully you feel
better now.

Duskland
Day's portending glow
divided by the room we're in
                           verted, lit from below
our shadows cast on ceilings loom
disfigured by the self-consuming gloom
of doom we ourselves evoked
in youth
Tooth for a tooth,
In short: revenge: the word we never spoke
As the hammer fell on his existence
Bludgeoning his dull, swollen resistance
Toward a ****** stillness
That, we hoped, would equal calm
But instead has led us
to the
Duskland

you trap me
in-between your arms,

telling me all about a secret
you have buried
underneath your tongue
for months now,

but kindness
is the only part
of me that manages
to escape from your grip.

I’m a sweet guilty feeling to the soul
Some says a cure to choler’s disease
Either to you or your enemies

I’m not meant for everyone.
The wise thoughtfully call me when it’s needed
For the fool I’m a necessity to be fulfilled

And when a man submit himself to my offer.
I’ll grant what he covertly wish.
A longing desire for relief; I’ll let his anger and enemies vanish.

Suffering has ended, one’s faith is settled
The folly will start to celebrate
While the wise will count his date

Then in the quietest night I’ll come.
That no one will expect except his conscience
The doors is unlock like someone let it open

In that same peaceful night only silence hears.
A peaceful stare all what I did
To the peaceful who is asleep
Memorizing the face of what peaceful I'll steal.

save face and leave
hold your quiet
like a secret
before thunder

leave the wound
mark the trail of my passing
reminiscent —
that we do for love
that we do for vengeance

you forgot, my dear
to **** you aim
for the heart