The Widow

 
Twenty-two stab wounds and three shots to the chest
Still healing
Standing alone the widow mourns but does not cry
His quiet gaze is focused on those he just laid to rest
Feeling
Every single raindrop like tears falling from the sky
 
The preacher man prays and quotes some scripture
From psalms
Warning how seeking vengeance can tear someone apart
But amid the commotion of sadness there’s a mixture
Of calm
And restrained fury the widow keeps deep in his heart
 
The widow’s heartache is silent, somber and suppressed
Endless
A million mental pictures run through his troubled mind
His mourning of today by tomorrow will be repressed
Reckless
Replaced with something that’s unnatural and unkind
 
Twenty-two stab wounds and three shots to the chest
Still healing
The only pain the widow feels is the agony in his soul
But along with the emotion he has become obsessed
And dealing
With a thirst for retribution that he will not control
 
He clutches his children’s necklaces and wedding band
Reminiscing
All the beautiful and magical moments they shared
As the coffins are lowered into the ground by hand
He’s missing
The loves of his life whose lives weren’t spared
 
The widow’s sorrow feels like an unbearable weight
Breathless
Like an eternal night when the dark does not end
But in the furthest reaches of his soul a rage awaits
Restless
With an unhinged determination that will not bend
 
Twenty-two stab wounds and three shots to the chest
Now healed
The widow has a savage wrath brewing in the depths
With revenge on his mind the man is now possessed
He’ll wield
And go on a rampage of eviscerations and deaths