Mercy
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Poem:		41325
“So kill me!” I said to the man on the boat, Who had a black cloak on and a knife to my throat. “Words of the brave or mummers of the dumb?” He seemed to ask in a sarcastic hum. “Pick what you will, does not matter to me!” He looked into my eyes with curiosity. “What would you choose?” he asked harshly Trying to make a mockery of me. “I do not know if I were you, I would be careful with what I do, For the souls of the dead are not fond Or men who do not understand the bond” “What bond is there to understand?” “The bond between decease and man” “Your reasoning is merely a tale, a joke According to the reasoning of us normal folk.” I stepped back wounded by the words he said And the disrespect he had for the dead. “Any last requests before you die?” He asked me before letting out a sigh. The rain fell hard and my clothes were wet, It was just after a calm sunset. “My last request before I die Is that my soul be lifted high, Into heaven not into a hole, May God have mercy on your soul” “About you, I do now know, You are a dumb and awkward soul, Your last request showed stupidity And a pathetic plea for much needed pity, You will receive no pity from me! You will die as I sentenced to thee I will now take complete control!” “May God have mercy on your soul.” I said before he drove his knife Into my soul, my body, my life! When all was silent, I came to peace, Understanding death was meant to be. Happy with my life I came to see That God had taken mercy on me.
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