The Writer

"I didn't ask to be a hero"
Said the murderer in his eyes
"Why was I put here in the limelight
And given this horific disguise

My seedy story
So skillfully sewn
Untouched by me
Done by others unknown

I didn't want to win your hearts
Nor win all of the fame and glorey
But you just could not resist
No, not with my story

I slaughter the thoughts
Greatest of man
And write them anew
As best I can"

And then his eyes said
With new found mirth
"Perhaps you prefer me
Because I give birth

Out from the ashes
Of my burned despise
Come new worlds of wonder
And quickly they rise

Up to your sight
And into your mind
On a crimson flight
Death left behind

So I ride my Phoenix
In ambivolence
Whether I've garroted a classic
Or attained magnificence