There was a wicked man,
and he loved a woman.
The woman was in love with him,
and it was just like heaven.
Except the man was wicked
the wicked man.
He hectored and bullied –
the weak and the poor;
He tortured and killed –
the wise and the brave;
He plundered and burnt –
the houses of the others
and then he laughed
like it pleased him,
like it filled a vacancy.
Deep down in his heart –
his coal black filthy heart
that dripped anger and hate –
All that he did
only reminded him to do it more;
do it more often;
and do it more viciously.
cruelly,
infinitely.
So he did,
for love couldn’t fill the vacancy in his heart.
his coal black heart,
from which dripped the cries,
that echoed in his dreams,
and made him restless.
Even when on good nights when he made love to the woman,
he still felt the need to draw blood,
from the veins of those,
he hated so much.
because they existed.
It vexed him.