Hands

Inequity's ogre breath always stifled her air and smothering her dreams,
leaving her feeling so stale and full of rage.

How the ticks on time's clock had plotted against her,
always punishing with cruel seconds of unfairness,
until they left her scarred and resentful, a match so easily inflamed,
ready to find any form of revenge that might balance the scales of life.

Into her crevice of acrid moments
where her mind was snared by regret's talons,
she longed so desperately for one blessing in reprieve,
a subtle gift of grace to prove she wasn't cursed.

Unto her day, he came, not on a stallion
nor wearing armor,
but in her heart he was a knight,
to her a prince whose voice spoke all the gold to enrich her heart.

Upon the honeymoon of ecstasy
she dwelled, every hour a new dream,
discovering the precious treasure in love's gemstones,
which she wore as a necklace of healing and passion.

His birthday approached and she strolled the mall for the perfect gift,
and then saw him with another, they seemed so affection and loving.
How the anger burned out of control, one more lie, one more wrong,
this time she would not let it pass without punishment.

Baking a cake for his birthday party, lacing it with poison
ready to server a lethal slice for all, just to vent her scorn.
Quietly showing up at the party, face hiding her plot,
as he raves over her baked creation,
but before it is cut and passed around,
he introduces to his cousin, the one that she saw at the mall.

Now she must face the hands of fate's stopwatch,
praying she can find a miracle to undo her own act of bias,
wandering the warehouse of guilt,
looking for some scapegoat myth to spare her truth's parade.