I played a game with Risk for much of my life.
He'd grab his knife, his favorite toy, and carve intricate wooden machines.
His mask smiled down at me, friendly but looming,
One day it fell off–
That was the day Betrayal stung my heart.
I pulled out the knife, his favorite toy, and, limping, led myself inside.
That was the day Grief pulled out a blanket, sat me down by the warmth.
'Take time to heal,' Grief said, her silky black hair showing no sheen of firelight.
After Grief had done her share,
Determination sat me down,
Her and Rage, my good old pal, they talked to me slowly, putting thoughts in my head–
No, they were only speaking the thoughts that were there, voicing my thoughts.
My name is Vengeance.
My hair is green like poison.
My smile is sly, kept from Rage and Determination.
My eyes are gray and bleak, remnants of old days as Grief.
My heart is open, broken by Betrayal's knife,
But deep inside, my soul wants more, from Risk's reign.
My name is Vengeance.
And today is a wonderful day.
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Written in Class
PoetryA collection of poems all written for a class. Most of them are related to my mental health, and some of them are pure fantasy. UPDATED WEEKLY
