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Poem of the Week

Children age,
Trees grow,
The clock ticks ever closer.
Time goes faster and slower,
Bending Life to it's will.
And no one ever notices just how much time passes.
Mountains crumble into dust,
Seas rise and swallow the Earth.
Time continues,
Counting towards the End.
Time is forever patient,
It has existed since the Beginning.
And it will only end,
At the End
But truly,
There is no need to despair.
Time has not yet arrived there.
The children are still young,
The trees have yet to grow.
The mountains are not dust,
And the seas are still low.
But beware,
Time is ticking,
And it has only one place to go.

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You toss and turn in your sleep. The sheets wrinkle as you mess the neat lines of your bed. You are dreaming. Dreaming evil dreams.

The voices whisper. Whisper of how you could have your revenge, they call it vengeance, but you are wary of them and ignore them.

But you cannot ignore them in your sleep. They show you the future if you listen, of you finally giving Them their dues. You are seemingly happy and you agree.

They tell you of things you don't want to remember, plans of things that will put into action if you just listen.

And giving up, just to make them stop, you agree. You carry out every step, every item and you put their plans into action.

In the morning, you hear of how They died in the night. The voices are happy with you and will gladly go away if you just do this one little thing.

You have already done much worse, you are a murderer, they can't make you do worse.

You agree.

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Poem of the Week

Your hate consumes you, Every waking moment, It whispers in your mind, Body, Soul. On how They must pay. You agree wholeheartedly. It whispers plans, Plans to bring about their humiliation, Pain, Sorrow, End. Every sleeping moment, In your dreams, Dreaming of ways to put Them to rest. Forever consumed with Vengeance. You yearn to put it to rest, An eye for an eye, After all. What you don't know, Is that They already have Vengeance on you.

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It was your job. The red dress, black shoes and the beautiful make-up. The silken scarf and the fine perfume.
The mirror showed a great beauty, you however, know better.
It is the same as usual.
The party is full of drunken guests and expensive food, you weave through the crowd making small talk and fake smiles. Silently you slip through an open door.
A darkened corridor greets you, you know where to go and sneak through into the third office on the right.
Inside there is a desk, it has a drawer with a false bottom. You remove it, inside are files with the key to the identity of the man's killer.
You take the files and leave nothing behind.
While leaving through the corridor, a guard spots you. You sigh and think that you had hoped to leave without murdering anybody. You turn with a silver knife and quickly slit the man's throat.
Later you wash the blood off the knife, it is clean but you cannot stop seeing the blood on the knife.
The mirror shows a beautiful young woman with …