Corrupted Blood Poem by Chantelle Clark

High above it was ashen gray.
The flames licked the sky.
That fire caused a fray.
And now people shall die.

I had made a noose that day.
And in cold blood I hung the brute.
The cat just could not stay.
It was time that it lay mute.

That corrupted blood controlled me.
And it washed away the guilt.
Demonic I was, no longer free.
Now my docile nature seemed to wilt.

My disease grew as I drank more gin.
and my violent ways were hostile.
It seemed that I would never win.
And now I was tempted to be vile.

My axe I withdrew from its case.
My intentions were to say goodbye.
That cat was done it's race.
However, that cat was not about to die.

My wife told me not to kill it.
For the animal was innocent enough.
And now her story was writ.
For with her I became rough.

Instead I turned to my wife.
And I gripped the axe tight.
I swung and took her life.
The blood dripped in the fading light.

Into the cellar wall I put her corpse.
The cat was put in as well.
My mind was permanently warped.
And any who challenged fell.