If you shall cross a man like I
Let it be known, here and now
Vengeful eyes shall watch upon thee
And plot your so sweet demise!
Beware I know your Achilles’ Heal
Of ego and wine;
And when most in your merriment
Dressed as the fool you are,
I shall lead you down the garden path
Into the damp and deathly crypts
Along the way you may test my innocence;
But in your intoxicated foolery,
I shall not falter or lose my mask!
And it shall not be,
Until you are chained to the wall
That you see my true hand
And dear fellow I do not jest;
Do not think it for a second!
I shall wall you in,
And revel in your cries;
Though my heart grows heavy
For but a moment,
I shall walk on and bid you farewell;
Rest in peace
©2012 – V. A. Coote