Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
The deadly blade, with fearsome force, is drawn across her throat;
regret's not an emotion he permits himself to feel.
Uncomprehending victim, clueless why she's been thus smote;
carotid pumping crimson tide, aware her fate is sealed.
In desperation, gasping, though her lungs can draw no air;
desire is now for nothing but an end to all the pain.
A few swift strokes, her murderer has stripped her insides bare;
the killer smiles as blood and gore go swirling down the drain.
In minutes it is over, and her suffering complete;
one solitary tear from lifeless eye falls at his feet.
No longer is she Daisybell, henceforth she's known as meat.
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Author Notes
My last few poems have been light-hearted attempts at humour. That's about to change. This poem is graphically violent, but not gratuitously so -- there is a point to it. I hope you can persevere to the end. To those who do, thanks for reading.
This is an acrostic, in iambic hexameter.
Today's word: trucidation (n.) an especially cruel killing or murder.
My much-treasured Christmas present for 2017 is a book by Paul Anthony Jones: "The cabinet of linguistic curiosities". Each page contains a descriptive story about some obscure or archaic word. It occurred to me it would be a fun exercise to try and write, each day, a poem featuring the "word of the day" from the book.
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