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Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2170038
A poem about false accusers.
Self righteous...Demagogue
Anxious martyr...
Pitiful prince...

How are your ulterior motivations,
So much holier than mine?
Belly full of kerosene,
But no light escapes your gaping jaws.

The first round was fired.
By this one...
This grinning mister.
This whore's son.
Took me by surprise.
This chess game was already won.

Cock eyed bastard,
Had a second go.
Gritting my teeth...
Couldn't let them know.
I was already dead.

Pale face and ruby red pout,
Silenced me before I shouted out.
Kissed me sweet.
Soothed me with sin,
As the poison settled in.

I know I was never meant for this world.
But I never, never,
Hurt a girl...
Or a boy...
For heaven's sake!
I shouldn't have listened to the talking snake.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2170038-Rasputin-Was-Framed