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