
LUNCHTIME TALES
VEXED
Unbeknownst to those that did, unto me their gracious deed.
Left me that I may bleed, for sowing an idea - a seed.
Walk thou with gracious care, the path of your sickly fare,
Look not, for I am there, foolishly killed; out of fear.
And lo my will doth transpire, apologies I do not require,
I set upon you my vengeful fire, accelerating you to expire.
I'll find your friends - they can not hide, throughout this realm - my spirit spy,
In low tide - you did abide, I asked the waters to help you die.
One was left - the one who led, this same one - on me had fed,
And caused for me to be bled; consequently, I was now dead.
But deaths frail grasp could not keep me, and through the gates I broke free,
Condemned - was what they called me, but I stalked my prey anxiously.
I showed myself, to his distress, his cries and pleas, did not impress,
I walked to him and firmly pressed, my hand through his heartless chest.
The deed was done and I sought rest, but with other spirits did I wrest,
Myself restrained by recent guests, I caused their deaths and they were vexed.