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Sunday, March 6, 2011

~Sonnet~


I took the gun aiming and shot him there
Tuning out subconscious, feelings retreat
As the cold wind awoke; anew with flare
Souls of Sheol lead him into the heat

Regret is not something of which I felt
Justice was served and rightly so; (in tune)
With the wyrd, it incredibly was dealt
His fate predetermined, written in rune

Heed to this caveat sapientially
Struck down the bullet; twofold in dread
Logistics come about intentionally 
Through foolish actions he now joins the dead

Enroll this blunders and amend reason
For satan makes pets of those who treason 

                                        - Joe Summers


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