Lone Avenger


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A lone figure stands on the wasteland,
of what was once his cherished home.
Devastation is all around him,
and he has never felt more alone.
Rage and hatred keep him company,
whilst thoughts of revenge now fill his mind.
They will pay for this destruction,
in the most fitting way that he has designed.
Rivers run crimson with bloodshed,
the ground sodden and soft underfoot.
Bodies lie lifeless and haunting,
casualties of a pointless dispute.
He makes a promise, to the dead, in the silence,
a strangled cry accentuates his pain.
He will avenge every last one of them,
so the likes shan’t ever be witnessed again.

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Wendy Pratt

Poet, Author, Editor, Facilitator

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