BLOOMING HATRED

The cool wind of the morning blows,
the petals of hatred blooms,
on misty lake my paddle rows,
while the song of silence booms.

Hatred as clear as crystal ice,
eats deep into my very heart,
like a toss of dice,
my revenge is a suspense filled art.

Her smile, a contract with the devil,
with illusions and realities of a nightmare,
as cold as the night time chill,
while riding fear's stallion bare.