Fuming Hatred | Teen Ink

Fuming Hatred

April 21, 2022
By The-Grim-Reaper SILVER, Hudson, New Hampshire
The-Grim-Reaper SILVER, Hudson, New Hampshire
8 articles 0 photos 22 comments

Favorite Quote:
We are all born crazy some of us remain that way

We don't talk about Bruno

Silenco Bruno


I am an old man now my fingers shaken, 

of all the years I've lived there is one that can't be mistaken. 

The year I fell in love with a beautiful woman, 

what was her name Rosaline, my heart she had tooken' 

All the years of my life fly by, 

but the times I have spent with Rosa make me feel alive. 

For now I am forced to pick the pen instead of the sword and write, 

for the sword was used and it changed my life. 

Rosa even in your cold rotting space, 

you still choose to taunt me with your ugly grace.  

I remember your love very clearly, 

how you betrayed me and made me feel silly!

You kissed me and held me and stroked my ignorant head, 

while behind my back there was another in your bed. 

I was clueless and helpless and should have known better,

but I was distracted by you, you were warm as a sweater. 

Little did my young mind know, 

you were just playing with me, lying to me, with the other man you would go! 

Even after all these long long miserable years, 

I still feel the spark that your beauty did reveal. 

You were a snake and a worm and bloody lying b*tch

But it was I who fell for your dirty little tricks. 

I still remember that sad sad day, 

the day when you slipped up your little game. 

I walked in that room and you were sleeping there,

but as I edged closer you were quite bare. 

Then my eyes noticed the other, 

you were sleeping with another, cuddling each other!

I kept this secret to the next day,

my heart stings you did play. 

I didn't reveal what I did know, 

but your kisses so warm almost convinced me not to go. 

I knew right then what I had to do, 

this was the day you sparked my hate in you. 

MY fuming bloody horrid rage, 

I honed it and controlled it and kept it safe. 

Then at night I creeped in your chambers, 

you two poor unknowing souls, just one slip of the act had done me in but now TWO!

You devilish hound, Rosa you, you slipped again,

the same man you gave love to back then!

Here you must know I picked up the sword instead of the pen, 

the knife I held was clenched tight in hand. 

I crept and crept and crept and crept, 

above them I stood with murderous intent!

I knew this feeling and what I was to do, 

Rosa I loved you but now we are through! 

You messed with my heart and faked your love,

how could you do this it was you I gave trust!

But my rage was fuming and bubbling so,

like a boiling pot of tea about to explode. 

But here the stove turned up the heat,

making me bubble and bubble and pour, I couldn't hold it in my heart skipped a beat. 

I drove the sharp knife down fast and deep, 

you uttered a terrible scream.

The man in your bed jolted, 

I almost felt bad for his surprise, 

but then murderous intent flooded my brain!

The knife twisted in your gut and then plunged in his eyes!

He screamed and thrashed madly, wildly 

He was a beast but I was the hunter and my rage made me jab and jab and jab blindly!

I couldn't contain myself, 

the blood splattered all over the walls, over the shelves! 

The deed was done but my rage not filled, 

I paced in contempt and in deep deep thought, this murder made me thrilled! 

I still can't fully imagine the crime I've pulled,

years of running and hiding and slicing, my rage not quite fulfilled. 

The police they searched and searched and searched,

but all they could find were torn up bodies my tracks well covered so noone could research. 

Now old and wrinkled with shaky hands,

but still capable of doing a murderer's plans. 

I have carefully set down the sword for I have decided I should try the pen, 

my thoughts of the years whizzing by inspired me to share my secret. 

Rosa has caused me to think with ink and paper,

remember her beauty,

she was like a wren. 

An evil clucking foul hen! 

Whose heart was born as black and horrid as she created mine,

but with eyes that seemed genuinely kind.

The witch that disregarded my feelings and infected me so,

with hunger of murder and burning and woe!

 Now as I sit in my bedroom chamber, 

with my desk and my pen and my paper, 

I ask myself, "Was it worth the trouble?" 

I've locked myself in this insane little bubble. 

Not allowing myself to love or trust, 

but murdering blindly those who fall to lust. 

As I pause to look at the newspaper I've pinned to the wall, 

the  headline fits me and you know it all!

The public who hates me and hunts me for killing that one disgusting stripper, 

they call me the simple but horrifying Jack the Ripper.

Now the old but satisfied feeling arise,  

the feeling of happy and I let out a sigh!

It truly was worth it, I've had such a thrill,

So maybe I Should be thankful to dear dead Rosa!

It was she who birthed a monster who kills and slashes!

Death, I hear it clack clack clacking, 

on its shepherd little horse but it enjoys my story I suppose. 

It has been watching and observing me so, 

I've felt the presence of his sharp scythe blade on my neck, 

but he hesitates to take me away,

for there is no soul in this body just devilish intent a predator who hunts on poor little prey!

I feel the pen shaking in my grasp,

Could death be near my final gasp!

But as I begin to die,

I'll leave you with a little advice. 

As I descend into the essence of hell one thing I've learned, hope this rings a bell,

don't ever fall in love for people will hurt you and leave you to rot, ignore beauty it is a spell!

Look within the devilish faces,

and if you see but only black, run run run away,

never keep hoping never do stay!

Because lovers with hearts of empty are mischievous and their beauty means nothing!

I choke!

I gasp!

My final breathe! 

Love means nothing if it leads to this lonely death! 

But if you are insane like me,

maybe this thrilling life of murder is who you are supposed to be!


The author's comments:

I wrote this poem of emotion and hatred, 

to show the world a tale of murder so sacred! 

His feelings of heart break has turned his heart black, 

Rosa who masked his sensibility and he can't ever turn back. 

Here he sits at his desk and writes his final words, 

Death behind him taking notes. 

For Death has followed him this far, 

as he left a trail of pain and murder and scars. 

Now his evil soul drifts down to Satan,

where in his lap he sits.

Hell's ground rumbles and shifts,

A new thrown placed just for this. 

Sweet Jack dear, 

has a throne in hell to continue his bidding. 

Here he is, his new life is just beginning. . . 

Maybe if you remember House 56, 

this story will take your mind back-- clickity click. . . 


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