Clarissa of the ax

Diagnosed

With a disease

It’s too late

They say

To cure me

 

The disease was too bad

They say I have 30 minutes to live; no more

Fall destined for all

No imortal soul is safe

 

Die,

Die without making an impact

I will be forgotten

 

Forgotten,

A well known rose

Wilted

Now they forgot

How the rose was

Where it was

How it lived

 

Just a breeze in the caveren

There, lingering

Then gone

 

 A love song

Sang once,

Long and sorrow

Came and went

Cut off upbrutly

But people forgot

As time wnet by

How it even went

 

I am an inconvinience

To life

I will be gone

But not without impact

 

They will remember the rose

The breeze forever in he caveren

The love song forever imprinted on memory

 

The rose,

Before dying,

Must be turned from pure pink

To black, pure as the dark ranks of death

 

The breeze

Enjoyed

Now has a foul stench

 

The love song

Soothing hearts

Now bestowes horror in the audience

 

I rise from my bed

People weep

Say they will never forget me

But alas,

They will

 

They will

Like how they forgot Anna

Sweet Anna

They told her the same thing

As she lay on her death bed

 

They forgot

They don’t remember

But I do

 

So I will do something

That I must do

I will not be proud of it

But it must be done.

I must be remembered.

 

 

So I get out the ax

I smile sadly

Randonly killing people as I go

 

Before I died

I killed 1/4^th of my town

Mostly the ederly

Suffering silently in their beds

 

75 years later

They still sing of me…

I have been remembered

As a killer

 

“Clarissa, Clarissa

Of the ax.

How you are,

30 minutes left to live,

Fearful of being forgotten,

 swinging wildly through the bar.

Wield your ax, wield your mace

Calm serenity on your face.

Who will

you kill,

With that bloodstained ax

Today?”

 

 

Author's Note

Computer did not have spell check. There will be spelling problems in the poems