The thud of my boots upon the stair
Cannot my unfaithful maiden awaken.
I am so calm as I look on her hair
And know that a life must now be taken!
I open the door with naught but subtle ease
As mine eyes find my lovers wretched face
As she rests to the scent of stately trees
I know one must be destroyed, yes, every trace!
Simply knowing the way it must be done
Will not suffice for a murderous thrill
But in the pre’pration is found the fun
In making what is needed for me to kill!
The sloshing of the blessed gas in the can
The scent of sulfur set atop a match
The excitement of being a vengeful man
When a faint sound she does apparently catch.
Toward the ceiling she quickly flies
But now it is truly too late
To me she begs and to me she cries
But now is the time of twisted fate
The head of a stick is set aflame,
‘tis a solitary source of heat
Now one must prepare a deathly claim
For their maker now they’ll meet!
The lonely pathetic flame falls to the floor
A scream! A cry! A resounding bellow!
She shrieks as fire lights not the bed but the door…
Engulfing me, a lowly fellow
I wished her to a state that is well worth her crying
Because of her inner turmoil and strife
There are things far worse than merely dying
She taught me, the worse things happen in life!