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BIO

Comment please, I like the support and advice. Its helps my writing. Inspired by poets such as Hollie McNish, I do not write conventional poetry. It's foundation is a mix between poetry and rap, but also just my passion for writing. This, I feel, creates a variety of poems about love and hate, but also about politics and race. I am just a young man who likes to express himself with words, and maybe I can create a lasting impression on people as a bi-product. I hope you enjoy the poetry you write but more importantly, I hope that instills an emotion in you, wether you agree or disagree.

Thursday, 3 February 2011

Revenge

Is revenge a bad thing? It is something that should be frowned upon? I don't know. What do you think? 

He was standing on a hill, 
with the blood dripping off his sword
The adrenaline still pumping making his veins hard cords and his torso a wooden board 
The scars that were scored across his chest causing his revenge to be reborn
This was not a forlorn emotion but a beautiful creation, maybe something that would cause damnation on the day of judgement.
Lord and master of the elements 
do not hold this man as a suspect or a rudimentary homosapiens  
He has been through the thoughts and fought the good and bad conscience 
leaving no space for imbalance of imperfection and perfection.
But rather this clear complexion that this man owns as a reflection to his heart and soul.
Be bold like he, and when one faces revenge and follows it through, see that he 
has thought it through, a bought this as the truth that he should feel.
The men came and burned his home, 
Took his wife and like a grown ivy tree
suffocated her womanly trophy, after this was done, 
and after the knife was slid over the passage to her lung
she was flung the corner of the room like a broken broom 
They left and he came, and he saw. 
He wept. 
The sword met its target eventually 
Gradually sinking deeper and deeper, 
And although granted the expression on his face was creepier and more dark
There was a spark of relief behind his eyes
He was standing on a hill, 
with the blood dripping off his sword
The adrenaline still pumping making his veins hard cords and his torso a wooden board. 

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