WITH CONCERNS THAT ONLY BENIFETS HER THOUGHTS AND VEIWS OF WHO SHE Wishes TO MARRY
SHE IGNORED THE NEEDS OF HER LOVER TO CONSULT WITH HIM WHO SHE HAD MADE SECRET AND UNKNOWN TO HER HUSBAND
SHE LACKED THE CONCERN OF A LOVING WIFE
AND LACKED THE CONCERN OF A PERSON WHO BELEIVED IN CAUSE AND EFFECT
HER VENGENCE WAS SEAMED IN THE MELMS OF THE CLOTHES SHE WORE
THEN AND THAT WHICH WOULD MAKE HIM FURIUOS HE KNEW NOTHING OF.
MIGHT HE WHO IS UNKNOWN REMAIN UNKNOW
UNTIL MY WORDS SHALL MAKE MY HUSBAND BEG ME ON HIS KNEES AS IGNORANT, THAT THIS SECRET MIGHT DESTROY HIM.
THOSE THAT WHO RESPECT HIM SHALL DESPISE HIM, THOSE WHO ADORE HIM SHALL MAKE HIM UNWANTED AND MIGHT THEY BRAG OF HIS DESTRUCTION
MIGHT THOSE WAYS I HAVE TREATED HIM, MAKE SCRIPT FOR HIS FUTURE AND HOW OTHER MIGHT TREAT AND VEIW HIM
THAT I AM WOAMN AND MY BODY HAS BEEN LOVED BY OTHERS
I SHALL BE VEIWED AS WORST OF EVILEST
Bunny On The Run
A precise touch with thin wet brush of subtle multicolored paints
Whites, burnt umber and a dash of reds on nature’s landscape
An artist focused on the clock’s gentle stroke at midnight
To strike at the beginning
Then takes his most genius leap into the scene
Lands on the canvass carving out the dark
With a spot of green against the barren forest
Aided by a lantern light aimed at the favored target
To capture the fury white bunny on the run
Scrambling through the brier patch without a scratch
The tiny woodland creature takes its own leap around the swollen trees
Darting through and over thicket
Contrasted against the backdrop of the perfect moment
The artist captures the bunny in mid flight
Applies the final touches to his masterpiece
That jumps right out at you at the museum
His hunger:
Would you offer your jaw?
Would you offer your lips?
Would you offer your tongue to feed the hungry wolf in wait?
He howls in agony as he lays in the blood red brier bush.
His limbs contort as he transforms into a Herculean beast.
As he opens his amber eyes, he sees you, His thirst speaking from the deeps of his stomach.
You plead trying to reach the human inside.
“I would offer my heart to the tortured man behind the wolfs eyes.”
It grows silent, his face twists, and his body shakes.
With one slash your blood spills across the brier patch.
Your soul now sleeps with the wild roses as he feeds.
The wolfs hunger subsides but the man inside dies, haunted by the sound of your sweet voice that cried.
“I would offer my heart to the tortured man behind the wolfs eyes.”