by Robert Hayes
Revenge can take on many forms, least of all murder.
(The butcher’s daughter)
By the door she lays in wait
As her victim takes the bait
She looks to him to feel her hate
For now he answers for her rape.
A daughter to the butcher clan
Blade in hand she takes a stand
Like cattle from the abattoir
She carves in him her signature
Conductor of the blades despair
His open wounds taste the air.
Flaccid now his butchered state
The crime committed sealed his fate
His body quartered, and cuts revealed
She feeds her dogs one last meal.
Bloodied apron, blades now hung
A night now spent on the run
Morning breaks to the rifles call
Hands behind your back and face the wall.
With noose in hand the rope now waits
The executioner has founds his date.
Tears absent, she faces her death
The leaver drops, she takes a breath
Her body jerks, then at ease
The hangman’s trade has set her free.
Leaving now this world unkind
Her mortal body left behind
Buried deep within the ground
Her soul it weeps without a sound.