Ode to a haircut. A particularly horrendous one at that. The haircut, not the poem. Well, maybe the poem too. It doesn't matter.
I got Butchered
Apollo had let loose his wrath upon Gaea The earth was burned to a cinder But a cold darkness numbed my senses A chill ran down my spine There was no turning back now Nothing more left to say Destiny awaited me As I marched languidly to meet my fate With iron in my heart. I had stalled this for much too long.
With lead in my feet I approached my adversary Face to face we stood; eye to eye No words were exchanged There was no need for words Just a nod, a shake of the head All was understood As he picked up his weapon An evil grin escaped his face. He knew I didn’t stand a chance.
As his blade flashed I swayed and I squirmed With each fell swoop he buried deeper Visions of my mangled body Swam in front of my eyes It was just a matter of time Before the final cut Would wound my heart, my soul Shred the last remnants of my spirit; Slowly ebbing away.
But I stood my ground, flinched not a little Battle bruised and scarred There was something inside me that still resisted Velazquez himself could not have known such valor On that fateful day Summoning the last ounces of my will My strength... my dignity... I shouted "Enough!" The enemy balked; he blinked And then he picked up his blade one last time. When it fell, I knew it was all over.
Pieces of me lay scattered on the ground With his last malefic blow He had pierced my heart Trying not to hide the smile of satisfaction on his lips He regaled in a job well done I quietly picked up my cadaver and turned to go In the distance the sparrows were making their song But to me it mattered not The music was muted, the colors all blurred. Just one thought kept racing through my mind...