Bacon Francis Poem by David Keig
Bacon Francis
So shall i kill them slowly
Twisted knives sharp honed by fate
And lay their bodies there before them
Like fresh chops upon a plate?
So shall they kiss oblivion
So shall they learn to dread
The greyest of grim reapers
Whose words burn a bloody red.
So shall i wreak my vengeance
so shall i dim their light
their lives forever fearful
not knowing when i'll strike.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/17/2024 9:35:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
