Poem from Literature

Revenge
By: Billie Jo Gaffney

There was a teen, who was quite mean
I wish he’d loose his head
Filled with hate was just some bait
From fate, soon dead
Soon he will be dead
The floor stained red

His heart beating faster, while lectured by a pastor
The words spinning in his head
A chill in the bone turns him to stone
He’s all alone, filled with dread
His ugly little head
Stained the floor red

What a relief! Though against my belief
That one should loose his head
And though I’m sad, I’m mainly glad!
He was bad, so I cut off his head
Hurray! He’s lost his head
Yet in the process, stained my lovely floor red

I really want to let it out, who this poem is about
Who it is that’s dead
But to publicize, would ruin the surprise,
So I’ll ignore your cries, it’d spread to much dread
That whom is dead
And stained my floor red

Quite suddenly, I awake, IT WAS ALL FAKE!
He’s alive, not dead
NO! He’s right before my very eyes…OH GOD! WHY?!
I think I may cry, attached to his body, his head
He’s not dead
The floor is untainted, no red.