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A few days ago I was making my way slowly through the eerily dark cemetery;
moving stealthily as if I was a burglar,
from cold hard cement to gravel trail.
I finally reached my destinaion when my eyes fell upon a tombstone.
No object in the universe
could send me into a deeper, more passionate rage.
The days of my childhood and the memories of us by the deep blue sea,
making sand castles from large mounds of sand.
The memories of my father and me.
He taught me how to crawl and walk,
now he won't be able to walk me down the aisle at my wedding.
He taught me to be accepting and nurturing,
now he won't be able to see me married with children.
He kept me safe from all evil in the world,
now he has been taken by the same evil he once protected me from.
I can't remember any time when my father wasn't there
or didnt support me. He was always there -
until the day he got taken from me.
Day in and day out I thought about our memories,
until happy memories took me towards rage.
I would take revenge for my father and I.
Here he lies beneath the ground.
Ice cold heart, pale and blue skin,
his once illuminating green eyes now closed shut for eternity -
and here I stand, with only memories of my father and me.
Here, I vowed to him,
the people that victimized him would not get away -
at least not from me.
Revenge is a messy business for you must be willing
to lose the person you once were
in order to wrong hose who wronged you;
they say two wrongs don't make a right -
two wrongs are never even.