May 6, 2011

Don't Mess with Mr. Ford

In the dead of night he stalks his prey,


His mind filled with anger, rage, and despair.


He hasn’t but a word to say,


Especially of what he was just made aware.



It pains him to look at her face.


What to do about it is the question in place.


The betrayal of a man’s wife punctures deep,


Whoever is responsible is getting put to sleep.



He looks upon his captive with nothing but hate,


You mess with his life, you suffer your fate.


This would all be moot if he didn’t sleep with his wife,


Nothing more to do other than end his life.



The man is dead having been stabbed in the chest,


This is welcomed sight as it was all for the best.


Gone is the man who corrupted his heart,


Now he can go home and eat some tart.

1 comment:

  1. I liked this poem a lot, and think it was a really good translation of your story.

    ReplyDelete