Revenge: A poem 

Salt beads on my face 

as fledgling passions race 

I can now see through the haze 

And find my way out of the maze 

Let honesty evaporate from the skies 

Give them lies in return for all their lies 

Virtue is the cripple of impunity 

Hypocrisy for greater good is not indignity 

The wicker cradle I have woven 

is for the infant of the future chosen 

Befriend the enemy, let his purse strings loosen 

I’ll be the mother of all that treason 

Let no warships burn my seas 

Let not death stalk my armies 

In my womb children will gather 

who will grow up to kill their own father