Wrong Clone

I wear a mask and a robe
Tattered and tinted black
Scary and stained blood
Solely visible to the mind’s eye

Sebrebe, I cometh
All the coward feareth
And the men runeth
For I scare and catch
Molest and crash
And bite and suck

I have been cloned-
To have killed from birth
And from birth,
May be till death
But now my hands are free
And my robes are clean




This is a wrong clone
Resting in your mind’s eye
Awake from your trance
For once, to the present
To the reflections of the realities
To the beauties of the current
For once I’ve murdered
Not always a murderer
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace