Revenge Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

It waits in the quiet,
a shadow stretching behind every step,
a whisper curling at the edges of thought.

Not fire, not fury,
but something colder-
a weight pressing into the bones,
a silence heavy with promise.

The wound does not close
it lingers,
it learns the shape of the skin
until it is no longer separate,
until it is you.

And when it comes,
it does not roar,
it does not announce itself,
it does not ask of you are ready.

It simply arrives-
as patient as the past,
as certain as the dark.