Get Out, I Scream At Thee

See this glint within mine hand?

It begs to be plunged deep within

Thy flesh, gouge out thy eyes

And remove thy stone cold heart!

Thy once called me friend, what

Utter hypocrasy!  Who are thee

To call me friend, when I was merely

Just thine’s plaything when lonely.

I spit at thee!  Would thy own heart

Bleed if I stabbed at thee?  I think

Not, for thy soul has rotted and

Decayed, eons before I came

Along.  Let me plunge this knife

Within mine hand deep into thy

Fetid flesh, twist it about, up

To the hilt.  Thy words sear this

Vessel of mine soul, and to

Think that thou hath spoken

Those words to me, it churns

Deep down in the pit of my

Gullet, causing waves of

Nausea to crash down

Upon my very spirit.

Love is an emotion that

Thy does not understand,

Not in the least bit!  Thy friendship,

An offering I wish not to have

Cast it’s icy grip upon me.

This life of mine, I pitch thee away from

Never to return to plague me

With thy false promises of love.

(c) 2003 A Riddle