The Haunt

Years after I witnessed the life
I testify after the death of the wicked and
In great strife write
An experience of which
Even though bitter in it’s sweet
Still resembles an obelisk
That of which have four sides
Of the individual, family, bystander, and divine
And one point that remains true
Beknownst to me I know not the right
For I am only the bystander in this fight



5 Years and 4 months ago
A time that sticks to me
The love and lover met at a line
A small strap snapped
In which there was no divine
Fit not were they to be called husband and wife
The lover became a master in sense
And love a servant
This of course not of literal
But figurative still stands
A sickening bellow that took shape
Formed of the growing wrongs
That pressure and worry had brought
The master and servant had then fought



Fighting of course may be violent
And violence may lead to death
In this case the worst had happened
For the servant had been shot in the head
Blood was splattered out on the floor



And I could barely take a breath
Gasping for air I was
Threatened by the master to keep shut
For I the bystander was there for a common job
But ended up in life changing alteration
For if I would speak when he was alive
I would not be



Days had came and went
And the family done wrong had become
Hell bent
The frantic fury of those closest
A trial had been called
With the only suspect tall and bald
Aged had the master become
For of what all he had done



News of the trial surely came
And panic not did he wane
The day of trial then had came
With no one to testify he had been freed
Alone he was to live for the rest of eternity



As the mallow wind blew on one sunset day
The spirit of the servant seemed fit
To pay a visit to whom she once loved
The old estate of which he lived
With the old master in which he dwells
The spirit wanting to talk only with her old love



Darkness seems now to take a choke hold.
“A breathe a new” It whispers
To the hallowing wind its desire.
“A love to me which will stay true
But shall cease to stick like glue
For an obsession is not love
And love is not an obsession
But instead love is of trust and devotion.
May I find this love and hath it to be my own
Even if not in the mortal life I still have my soul
And since true love is of the soul I have a chance again.
And now I hope that you repent for your sin”



And so to cause a commotion
Over a hopeless cause
Is to start a riot
All in vain
The rain begun



A sad sloth become in the wake
Of the disaster
All because of the rage
Of the hopeless master
And thus the servant turns
Another page, all in due time
Thine experience sudden sorrow
Not in wake of defeat
But of the betrayal that had been







Not one tear of remorse had been sprung
And he still woke every day to the morning sun
Guilt had not existed in his persona
He existed as if he was in a state of nirvana



And then days to millennia after
The master just may come to
And wallow in realization
Of what thou may all do



A panic may arise due
To the rising chance of death
Or thou may be true to him
With a true change of heart
Or it may be a sickening lie
For in which we may be all fooled
A folly of tales for the mortal to pity
The sickened individual on his death bed
Had cried out that he was sick in the head
And knew not what he was doing
And forgot all of what he did
Paranoia had been planted in his brain
And that he blamed all of his pain
He demanded help for his sin
And then kneeled down by the cross



Had he truly repented
Or had he made a lie
Would he rise to heaven
Or surely fry



This is not for me to judge or know
But instead for you to perceive the tale
Take it as you will
For the individual himself
And the divine may only know



Love can never be a chain
Or it will absolutely fail
Even if made of steel
Thou can still steal
All of which is not true
Know this to you
To keep you from becoming blue





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