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(A sad, tragic and fictional poem)

When I'm done with you, you'll need an undertaker.
Because of what you did, you will meet your maker.
You had an affair with my daughter but neglected to tell her that you have a wife and kids.
I found a suicide note next to her body, she decided to end it all because of what you did.
When my daughter learned about your wife, she begged you to get a divorce.
You said that would never happen and now she's dead, and you don't even feel remorse.
When I found my daughter, I held her lifeless body in my arms as tears rolled down my face.
I'm going to have to kill you because you are a scumbag, a low life and a total disgrace.
You're laughing because you think that I'm bluffing, but I just put a bullet in your head.
I pulled the trigger and now as I look at your corpse, I feel jubilation because you're dead.
When you used my daughter, you signed your death warrant as well.
I hate your stinking guts and I really do hope that you will fry in Hell.

By randy-johnson

© 2019 randy-johnson (All rights reserved)


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