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The Art of Poetry.
Lightning Strikes Twice
© January 17, 1995 by Paul M. Combs, Jr. All Rights Reserved

Like a funnel cloud towering over your head,
Like a funeral march, a prayer for the dead,
I will be back to reign blood over you.

So you intend to cut me, with the sterile edge of a knife.
Or maybe you wish to do something that may end my life.
If you didn’t already know it, I am prepared to die.

If I die as a result of your hand,
I will be more powerful than anything you have ever known.
In life, I will receive pleasure in bringing you unparalleled pain
In death, I will await you, where you will feel pain that will be
Legendary even in hell

So I challenge you, if you doubt me, do it.
Then so begins my reign over you.
You will never feel pleasure again.
Strike me down.