The Man who's dead

A Poem by Ang

The realization of the man who's dead

A man once said that a man who’s dead can always hear the noise
He shall not tell, he shall only dwell and he can never raise his voice
A man down under, caught in a blunder, somewhere in between
Floating through, dreaming through, a bitter bloody scene
The love of his, a kind young miss, lies face down in the dirt
She can not move, a ghastly wound, but soon it does not hurt
The man who’s dead, a tear he sheds, as he’s watching his love die
Her cheeks turn white, a beautiful sight, as she let’s out a final sigh.

The man from down under, starts to wonder, what happened to his love
Searching her, his promised girl, and sees a shadow from above
A shadow, two shadows, stands in front of the final plan
His love, his dove, what have you done, holding another man

Anger, rage and all in between, strikes our man who’s dead.
He floats towards, his love, his w***e, who he once wanted to wed
He stops halfway, his eyes betrayed, for the man she’s holding is old
He looks at him, then turn to her, and his very essence turns cold

His love, his dove, now old and small, turns to him and stare
Our man who’s dead, filled with regret, with pain he can not bare
“My love, my dove, here you are at last”
The man who’s dead, filled with dread, hears her tales of the past
“Years went by, tears I cried, the night you went away
How I wish, how I prayed, I stopped you that night in May.
You left our home, with a loving note, saying I’d soon be your wife
You didn’t know, I didn’t know, that you’d be taken away by a knife.
For many years, I lived with tears, but I found another love
He’s my man, and I’m his wife, and I now call him my dove.”

The man who’s dead now turns his head, remembering how he died
A angry man, with rusty knife, made him take his final sigh.
A night in May, the man on his way, to get his wife a ring
An angry man, a desperate man, killed him for his things

For fifty years, the man who’s dead, have been in the great above
Unable to rest, unable to stop, until he found his love
He found her at last, unaware of her past, and should now be able to rest
But another feeling, a angry feeling, rumbles in his chest

A man once said, that a man once dead, can travel through the worlds
A man who’s dead, filled with anger, with a mind twisted and twirled
He shall not be still, shall not be quiet nor shall he ever be ignored
He will hunt, he will grunt, until the blood of the guilty pours.
The man who took his life, took his wife, will sadly meet his fate
A man that’s dead, who’s filled with anger, will turn into nothing but hate

© 2012 Ang

Author's Note

This is..kind of a rough type. I just wrote it at work now, 'cause the idea popped up in my head. I may adjust/refine it a bit later on.. or not, I'm kind of lazy.