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the beast

By Amos Joshua 

Anger, a purge,
A poisonous vermin,
Fostered by selfish urge,
Sheltered by pride:

Epimetheusly, it raises hands
And lays curses
Rather than calm the grudge
By walking away.

He stood right there
As though grottoed,
His hands shaking,
His body trembling,

He’d started to go numb
“Did I really do this?”
Before him, a motionless body,
On the floor in accusing blood.

The little kids were crying
“Daddy what have you done!”
“Mummy wake up!”
“Mummy daddy has muted.”

Daddy had become a stammerer.
“Daddy, wake mummy up!”
Their accusing voices called.

Neighbours came in a rush,
He stood still to the spot,
Wishing it were all a dream.

The beast had won again;
Another broken home, broken dream…
Restlessly searching is he,
I hope he doesn’t find YOU.


Excerpt from #1 Youth Shades, September 2016


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