Hex
Worm your way
out of this one:
dig your own
grave. I wish
black night on
your hopes;
blight on your
dreams;
and ice on your
heart.
Oh but I smile,
you say:
I cannot be
angry.
You touch the
hand
That would
gladly strike you
And remark that
I would never ever
Hurt a fly.
I would sooner
spare
a bloated
maggots life
than yours.
I deconstruct
your face
as you speak
and rearrange
the words
into truth,
bypassing your
lies and jibes.
No I would not
hurt you!
No I would not
curse you!
If you believe
me, you
have only
yourself to blame.
How often have I
told you,
I will have my
will? What
part of my
philosophy
has been
obscured?
Or are you just
the exception to the rule?
No I will not
rant and rave
nor nail up on
your doors
my list of
threats
I will hex you
nonetheless.
Geraldine Moorkens Byrne