PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

His blood boiled within his veins,
Heating his body like being set on fire.
Like a passive flamethrower,
He takes his anger out at everyone.

If he had his own MTV show,
Then most of his talking would be censored
Because his mouth was as foul as his anger,
Filthier than his own sin: Anger.

Pointing a gun at his son's head,
He pulls the small trigger of the pistol,
Killing the boy at point blank.
His anger was growing hotter and hotter.

He poured kerosene all over his house
Like watering his plant bed of dead flowers.
When he lit the match on like snapping at people,
He threw it towards his house.

Grasses became crimson red like blood,
Turning his world into a nightmare.
The flames show him a reflection of his sin,
Turning all his anger into fear.

When Satan's arm grabbed him from the flames,
He begged for his father to put out the fire on him.
With a sly grin on his demonic face,
He snapped his son's head and ripped it off.

Satan puts his son's head right next to the others,
Blowing out the flame in his mouth.