The door slammed shut, I was alone again
With thoughts for friends and darkness my comfort
Watching the place where my body was slain
My spirit watches without a consort
I see the killers as they come and go
I’ve watched them grow old over many years
The pain of age has brought them nought but tears.
And I’ll watch them fade and die very slow.
Until their ghosts are all that’s left to find
I’ll watch without a tear upon my heart
And once their gone I’ll say goodbye; depart
I may be unjust, I may be unkind
Did they stop to think when they left me dead
With the axe they buried deep in my head?
© JG Farmer 2014
Form: Burns Sonnet