#WritcoPoemPrompt10
Rickety, rick, rackety rack,
The train sings a song on its old track,
We swing with its tune,
Swaying and bouncing a moment too soon,
Yes these were the days
Before the new moon.

My mother once told
A story of old
About a fierce lady warrior
Who pillaged and plundered
And the souls she took numbered a hundred.
But not as it seems, for she was of good heart
Of only justified revenge she took part.
I vowed that day,
Though I knew violence out shall not stay,
That I would avenge for poor helpless souls.

So under the new moons
I lay in wait.
My soul, my life, to these I donate.
I see the evil
Nigh they come
Ah, but would be better for them to return where they're from.
I do the cursed ugly task
Though I not in glory bask.
Avenger of Blood,
No credit given
Avenger of Blood,
From each town driven.

Yet I find the strength to resume
When the people I help are with gratitude consumed.

Avenger of Blood
Not a glorious task.
But a necessary evil
So I take up my mask.