The Assassin

The Assassin

A Poem by Branwyn Eliabeth

A few friends of mine started playing a game of assassins. In response to the humorous fear the game had created, I started messing with my friends. this poem was left in place of a car bomb.


Around every corner

Under every stair

Before you meet the coroner

You’ll meet her deadly glare


Waiting in the shadows

Waiting in the dark

Waiting ever patiently

Waiting for her mark


Always keeping secrets

Always telling lies

Always aiming carefully

And then somebody dies

© 2011 Branwyn Eliabeth

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Added on June 30, 2011
Last Updated on June 30, 2011


Branwyn Eliabeth
Branwyn Eliabeth

Nowhere, AK

Once there was a girl made of lead she fell into the water now she's dead. also I have a deviant art page for some of the paintings and crap I've done more..