As cold as callous icebergs,
Yet as tepid and alluring.
It will shower like a revitalising rainfall,
The crimson liquid of life,
As the epitome of loathing.
The solemn sunlight will dance
And ricochet off the weapon of choice.
Slim and long, but with a hidden depth,
It will penetrate mind and body.
And like the hooded Reaper,
It will take from you what the gods gave you:
Life and love, and the love of your life.
Without objection, without questioning,
It has no feelings; it is made of man’s metal
A power as great as life,
Is the power to take away life,
And I wield that power in my right hand.
My duplicitous fingers draped around the blade
That I puncture your life organ with,
And as I do that, the beautiful red water
Will gush from your broken temple,
like a cell discharging.
And oh! The screams.
How sweet they do sound!
Like a melodious echo in my mind.
As pure as a baby’s first cry,
As piercing as a mother’s heartbroken wail.
This is my gift to you,
and like no other it is
a dish that is best served cold.
As cold as the act of betrayal you carried out
Against the man who would be your brother.
This is another poem I wrote for my first portfolio at University. It’s about a man speaking of his desire for revenge against a man who betrayed him.