Revenge

Petr Petrov

06. Revenge

Under the sun of lonely land
Among the blasts of heavy winds
Where even mountains hand in hand
Protect the world of wartime dreams
There lived a simple man of mould
Whose sure hands had forged the metal
Whose fiercely, widely open eyes
Had always grimly scorched like nettle.

He carried the immoral truth
In all his deeds and all his actions
The man was rough and never smooth
He never longed for the attraction
And from the day his mother gave
Him birth and breathed in him the air
All people hated him the way
That was becoming worse forever.

But day had come one weird morning
When rays of never sleeping sun
Awoke him like new aborning
And gave him power that could stun
This power given from above
bestowed upon by magic virtues
the force he never dreamt about
became a gorgeous gift of fortune.

Just as the sun was going down
And sky becoming pink and gold
The wild shouts in the valley
Made feelings and emotions cold.

Barbaric warriors with weapon
Attacked the village from all sides
They killed and murdered all the living
And rolled on like enormous tide.

The man of mould was a man of power
He was supposed to save them all
And force that he possessed that hour
Could burst outside and break the mold
But he decided to stand by watching
How all these heartless people died
And sweet revenge was roughly scotching
The hatred he had long defied.