Murderer

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  • Anger

    Murderer

    Murderer how do you feel; Murderer why do you hide
    you took my mother! You vicious killer!
    I will not revenge that is for God
    Up the sky her soul will float wondering and wandering
    Like a black greedy vulture as a flower about to blossom
    You wiped her away; she was my queen
    My savior, my life, why did you take her
    I saw her melt like butter
    in front of me, she became dust
    As i cry, my heart bust
    I will not revenge, i will not forget
    Such lost i deeply regret
    I only pray for the savage in me to not explode
    One day i will definitely overload
    Murderer just know that you are no match to God
    Your name is Satan as it is also your weakness and judgment
    You will pay, you will die, and you will dry

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    rsalassi commented on Murderer

    09-19-2010

    You have embraced about as much emotion as is possible in this poem, and my heart feels your pain. You are wise beyond your years, but need mentoring both in your soul and your writing. I hope you find both before you do overload and explode. I am so sorry about your mother. Keep looking and thiinking and questioning the surface of reality. Don't depend on the Holy Ghost for all the answers, or you'll still be wanting in the end, more uncertain and more confused than you are today.

    gregster

    09/20/2010

    Don't depend on the Holy Ghost is the opposite that I do....for without the HOLY GHOST none of us will exist...I like ur comment but watch what you say about THE POWER OF MY HEAVENLY FATHER JEHOVAH

    tonia18 commented on Murderer

    06-23-2010

    i like how u expressed ur feelings in time of a loss its very verbos.. i know how it feels loseing a love one.

    gregster

    06/23/2010

    yea,,,,mu mom when i was three.....dont really no her....read a loss on my list ..says it all.......

    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

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