Oh Deathmonger,
why did you come,
knock, knock, knocking
on my door,
when you knew there’s a doorbell?
Why, Deathmonger,
did you offer to save me
in exchange for her?
You waited,
at the foot of my bed,
glaring for two weeks,
silent and
well knowing I would ‘give in’ to the pressure.
Deathmonger,
I never had to answer that door.
I never had to make that deal.
Go.
[This is #5 of 30 poems written by Stephen Earley Jordan II for a National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). The object is to write one poem per day.]
