A poem based on Macbeth

Lost in the haze of my past,

the lingering guilt that weighs down my soul,

feeling the beat of a heart filled with never ending morose

I sit in anticipation of my fated gloom.

A cold feeling creeps in my veins,

as I recall the two innocent souls,

whose death I had invoked to quench my bloodthirsty soul,

one of my dear friend and the other of my lord

whose faces haunt every fiber of my being.

But the monster in me screams for revenge,

refuses to sit in silence and let fate play its game,

urges me to mourn for my lady and

fight for her until my very last breath.

I sit by the window of my impenetrable fortress,

waiting for the impossible to happen,

waiting for the forest to incur its wrath,

for a man not born of a woman to take me down,

I waited as time unfolded it's events.

I watched with wide eyes as the forest moved ,

and in my head , the prophecies rang clear and true,

the branches were thrown aside revealing my biggest fear,

the massive army and at its helm was young Macduff,

marched in unison to avenge his father's death.

All my men have drawn have their swords against me,

they stand by Macduff with grim determination etched on their faces,

I cross the threshold of my fortress to finally confront my fate.

I walk with a head held high,

my sword drawn and my armour donned;

I crossed the field and

mocked them with all my might.

With a sword drawn , Macduff charged at me,

a war cry escaping his mouth,

angrily exclaimed he,

"thy hands are soiled with the blood of innocents,

thou betrayed thy friend,

killed our meek lord,

thou will meet thy end by my sword!"

mine met his,

a battle of wills was ensued, fate was playing its final game

dancing to the music of the clashing swords,

circling each other as the swords wove a web of steel,

i threw back my head and laughed and merrily exclaimed,

"my end is destined by the hand of man not born of a

woman!"

With an arrogant smirk gracing his features,

said he,

" then thy end's near ,

thy fated downfall is standing before thou,

concieved I was not naturally but artificially!"

As shock sizzled my very being ,

my sword slipped from my hand,

all sensation was lost as

his sword severed my head.