Writer 1
Stalking her for a few days he wanted to beat that faker /
Take the knife to her throat amd make her meet her maker /
Three day later,Jim grasped his stiletto and went out /
His mind made up, thunder rolled as he studied the ground /
Saw her walk down the bus w/ a vanity purse and a big red gown /
Followed her like a snake in a jungle, steadied for sounds /
Saw her go out of reach,so he reached and steadied the round /
He hated that bitch for what she'd done to his pounds /
How he ended from being a rich englishman to a clown /
He finally walked up to her, knife held out /
He slashed as she turned, watched her white neck sprout /
A look of hatred for her spouse,as her face revealed in the thunder/
As she died, she had her cellphone concealed in her under /
She dialled 911 and called the number /
The sirens rang as he escaped,searching for cover /
Jumped over a low wall knocking a pot w/ a flower /
Jim realized this was how he was meant to suffer /
He thought back how he killed her /
how he had brought her veins to a cutter /
And tore his hair off in guilt over that fucker /
As the thunder rolled and rain started to patter /
He walked back oblivious that he was the one police were after /
Jim walked up to the patrol out for the search /
He whipped out his glock,aimed,fired and cursed /
As they saw him they shot,sprayed, Jim felt his veins burst /
As he lay in the blood,thinking of Marie's words /
'We can't separate,ever'had made him pick the club and beat her /
But as he reached the gates of heaven in a steamer /
He made up his mind and braced himself to meet her /
But the gates never opened and he was cast out as a leper /
Vs
Writer 16
The distant thunder was a haunting whisper
Bright fractures flickered, battling the night.
A threatening chill and a daunting mist were
Creeping slowly in, foreshadowing the plight.
The air was a dark, drab, and dank aura in
Spinning vendettas of a quarreling breeze.
A fiery firmament -maelstrom's origin-
Performing accelerando in chorusing trees.
I was beginning to feel a burning despair.
At this moment I considered turning to prayer.
Instead, I turned to the tools I had at hand
And built a mighty wall fit for a man's last stand.
A thick skin, like that which defends an elephant.
A barrier to block all of heaven's elements.
I decided the position I had kept was enough,
But I hadn't foreseen the true threat from above.
The skies had become paroxysmal, abhorrent.
A whirlwind's deep vortex of clamoring storms.
Drowning now in something abysmal, a torrent,
Putting shame to the power in the hammer of Thor.
Beyond hurricane force, the maximum blusters
Were like warriors bent on a stark battle rage.
Mustering up tons and amassing in clusters
Through gregarious spans of a dark cavalcade.
My heart transpersed from despair to sheer panicking
This storm was too vast to thwart, I feared tragedy
Would the beasts in the clouds recuse my escape?
Rob me of the strentgh to choose my own fate?
I started to lose faith in my new, depleted self.
The wall wouldn't stand, I knew I needed help.
I had been king my whole life, my enemies' worst slayer,
But the sky was too dark, so I said my first prayer.
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