PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The water witch stands before my

So voluptuous, so alluring.

She promised me a lifetime

of raininig tyranny down upon the heads of feckless peasants;

all I must do is sell out my king.

Who needs morals when you have money?

She heartily agrees.

Who need soul when you have power?

At this, she frowns.

Soul, she argues, is what allows our powers to flourish.

It can move nations. It can strike down the sun.

I acquiesce.

My paramour, my sweet; I know I've lived wrong.

Forever will my mind be marred by war.

I am but an instrument of your destruction.

Again she frowns.

Perhaps she knows I mean to betray her

just as she wants me  to do my king.

It becomes impossible to breathe.

I'm drowning!

Even though I stand on solid ground.

I'm drowning!

Too bad there's no-one around.

I'm drowing!

No ears to recieve the sound.

I'm drowning!

My eyes meet hers; disaster abounds.

Holy shit I think I'm dying.

Or maybe I'm just being born.