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I found myself heading to the gate on west end road,
Bitter and the sweet cold anger fuming for the eyes to see,
“You’ll meet ‘him’ then you’ll know what fate has to unfold,
Beware young man of his wrath or what shouldn’t be will be”.

He lived in a secluded house which I was sure I’ve seen before,
I smiled at the awkward feeling, the familiarity of the scene,
Shall I force my way in? Or politely knock on his door?
It’s strange I chose the later: on civility I was still keen.

He’s the one I hold accountable for every regret I have,
It’s sad he’s still the same, after all what we’ve both been through,
His smooth ways won’t distract me; it’s my soul I must save,
His anger will not scare me, I wish he only knew.

‘Hello master’ said his butler, as he slowly released the door,
I waved my hand and headed to the room where I thought he must be,
It was time for me to face him an’ I raised my gaze off the floor,
A mirror was set and my own eyes were staring shamelessly back at me!


A. L. Gomaa© 25th of February 2008