Disclaimer: I hold no claims of ownership for BTVS, Angel the series or any other creation Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc. I only own the poetic interpretation posted thusly below.

A/N: Just a little poem I wrote the other day. As always, reviews are more than welcome.



Hell Hath No Fury

His love for her was his very soul,

He bore it like a badge of doom;

She ignored his feral past, his sin,

And together like a rose they bloomed.



Yet this rose had thorns you see,

That cut deep into her heart;

In the end he faced the dread, his curse

And his soul was rent apart.



Torment followed, like a harbinger cloud,

Raining blame of what had passed;

His twisted desired mock her now, cold,

Was by his empty evil out classed.



He toyed with her friends, with their lives,

And stole the breath of young Jenny;

All his darkness grew in him, devoured,

His dire dreams were many.



Then it finally came to pass and fall,

That the angelic beast be slayed;

And unto the task she warily threw herself,

As the price must still be paid.



Fought, they did; to the bitter death,

Although once he was her life;

He awoke from evil in brief, too late,

Before forced, she flashed the knife.



His heart bled a crimson swath into hell,

And slowly he sank ashen gray;

Hell-bent and half-broken, retreating inside,

Buffy crumpled and ran away.



© Tom Stanley