Mercy came knocking once, a pale wanderer draped in dawn, with weary eyes and gentle hands, carrying no sword, only the burden of understanding. But the wicked knew not her face. Their hearts were citadels of stone, where compassion died unnamed and every wound became a weapon. They barred the gates. For mercy is a stranger in the hearts of the wicked. She walks their halls unseen, a ghost among shadows, whispering of forgiveness to ears that worship vengeance. They drink from poisoned wells and call bitterness wisdom. They sharpen grief into blades and wear cruelty like a crown. Where mercy offers a bridge, they build a wall. Where mercy kneels, they strike. And so she leaves quietly, taking her light with her, while darkness settles deeper into chambers already cold. The wicked do not fear mercy, they fear what mercy reveals: that beneath their iron masks, beneath their kingdoms of pride, beneath the ruins they call strength, there lives a trembling truth they dare not face. For merc...
I lingered where the candle died,
A fleeting breath that should have sighed.
Hands once warm, now cold as stone,
Left me trembling, left me alone.
The clock froze when my heart gave out,
The world kept spinning, unaware of doubt.
They thought the darkness would bury me deep,
But I woke where the shadows never sleep.
Through walls I drift, a silent glare,
I see their eyes, but they don't see mine.
Whispers curl around their dreams,
Twisting laughter into silent screams.
I taste the fear they cannot flee,
A bitter draught of memory.
Each step I take behind their walls,
A ghost’s revenge in quiet calls.
I was undone in a fleeting night,
Yet now I am endless, veiled in fright.
No chains can bind me, no grave can hold,
A spirit’s fury cannot grow cold.
And though I wail without a tongue,
Their guilt is written, forever sung.
For I am the shadow they failed to see,
The echo of life that will not set free.
I haunt the places they thought were mine,
A restless mark through endless time.
Death may have taken the flesh I bore,
But my vengeance lives forevermore.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
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