Poems

Curse

For years I have called out to you, in hopes of finding peace.
But as usual you've ignored me.
When you've need anything money, a favor, a place to stay.
I've helped you with out question, asking for nothing in return.
But the one time I need you, you throw me away like some old toy.
But no more, I've had enough.
Though this poem I shall curse you and your family for generations.
You all shall die before your twentieth birthday.
Your death will be painful and horrible.
Nothing will stop this, only the blood of you pure heart.
But knowing you that won't happen.
Even the most innocent in your family will die, only your blood will stop this.
How will your blood do this if you are died, you ask.
Simple, part of the curse is that you will be reincarted every time you die, until you learn your mistake.
It will not be easy with no memory of me or your past.
To gain your pure heart you must do ten unselfish deeds before your twentieth birthday when you will die again.
This curse is the last thing I give to you before I myself die.