Trial-II

“To soar above paltry men,

Away from narcissictic fracas,

Right out of the damp hell,

To breathe free again;

Thus was a dream, Ye Hono’

‘Tis but a favor, an act of gratitude,

Too cursed a burden, heavy too,

Have I relieved them of.” – Spake I in earnest.

 

“Rascal!” – Screamed Marie, yet again;

“To no avail.” I had said the night fore,

Distraught hands wrapped around me neck,

Wild eyes frolicking, in groves of hatred cold,

In groves of vengeance cold, murky; Purpose

Alit as a thousand fireflies mating,

“To no avail.” I had repeated, smiling.