Where do I go? 

Who is the foe? 

The blood drips down. 

I got to leave this town. 

As I sharpen my knife, 

I plan to take his life. 

He told a lie, 

He made me cry. 

My eyes darken, 

The town crier cries “harken!” 

“The young Master is dead, 

He is as cold as lead!”

A grin slips across my face, 

Blood is all over my case. 

I trudged through the woods, 

With all of my goods. 

It’s after dark, 

And under a tree ark, 

I set up a tent, 

That the slaves at home sent. 

A giggle escapes my lips, 

Exposeing my fang tips. 

The animals fled, 

Before they ended up dead. 

I grabbed a cup, 

Tilted my head up, 

And drank the red juice, 

That set the animal in me loose. 


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