The beauty of an instrument of death
Behold my kingdom, it is I who reigns
A blast of hot air emits from my breath
Arabian blood in my silver veins
With each cut of the blade my belly grows
A deafening rage emits from my gut
Stripping my victims of green silken clothes
Banishing beauty with each sultry cut
Spewing the essence of flowering things
Gathering souls with such perfect control
I relish the joy that such killing brings
So stand in my way and I’ll take your soul
A simple kill, my victims are slower
I’m king of the field, I’m the lawnmower
Wow.. You maintained suspense till the last line... marvelous.. The title and the remaining verses prepared me to expect a lethal weapon used in conventional warfare. In the end its just a lawn mover! Beautiful. Makes me remember O. Henry! A sweet 10.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderfully crafted to maintain the suspense ill the end. Like it very much.