JZ
Mr. Bitterstone
By John J. Zelenski
Upon a thorny hill does Mr. Bitterstone design, a trek of devious devices
A tinge of crimson wind is blowing strong, a single trail of red entices
The sullen door awaits its guest of horror, no climatic entrance theme required
A vile stench above reproach is buoyant, adrift a sea of petulant desires
A single thread of daylight confounds an otherwise but ominous temptation
Her dying wish on threadbare wings, invites the darkness she now embraces
At last he stands before her, pain doused in venom ignite the coals of evil swallowed
The godforsaken shell of unrepentant anger, paves the road to tread the valley hollow
A final act of cowardice, with vengeance, a gruesome blow in vain he now bestows
For she wields the unsuspecting dagger, and befalls the troubled Mr. Bitterstone