Kissing Killers, Cyanide, and Caregivers

This is a poem in my novel, My Sweetest Cyanide Pill.

And in his eyes, those pulsating irises that forever became still, 
was a prayer to Him that this dragon would not kill, 
that this dragon would not hurt his eternal story, 
that this dragon would not barter everything for greater, everlasting glory.

In those days, a time and time ago, 
he knew not the river flowed in the way he now knows. 
As something wicked descended upon his form, 
he knew what was before him was no mere storm.

A calling is what he had �" the only seed in which he had accrued 
flailing about in the macabre, vitality-ridden stew. 
One should always remember a god of death is watching over, born anew; 
one should always remember to be careful in what they do, 
because in this world upon worlds, in this black, white quagmire, there are shades of graying truth to everything those old ghosts in the machine do.

Reviews

[Remember Courage]

Your vocabulary in your poems are very good and I enjoyed the variety of words. While I could not relate to this poem entirely, it was nicely done. The last stanza was very descriptive and detailed. It felt like a warning which gave me the chills. I love the rhyme because (again) it felt like story telling and made it easier to read that way. Well written and a lot of thought went into this. Great job.
-Courage