His face twisted as my knuckles became messenger of my rage. A resounding crack accompanied his impact with the tile floor, a pool of his own words spilling out upon it. The crowd cheered, suddenly I was Hercules, the hero of the people. I was Aeneas, their fearless leader. He stood up, a stream of retribution pouring from his eyes. As he ran off, I turned around to meet a sea of cheerful faces. I had done what they wouldn't.
__________________________________________________________
Everywhere they go, the siren follows.
Those she meets, moan and wallow.
The sound, it steals sanity away.
Leaving them in complete dismay.
And all of them, as she strides by,
Dance and laugh under a crimson sky.
No comments:
Post a Comment