Dear Mr. Saturday
That special package you're holding
So casually
It belongs to me
There'll be no debating
No pleading
No singing
No talking
No rhyme
I'm coming for what is rightfully mine
Perhaps you won't give
To "fight" or not
Your prerogative
I am not a “fighter”
Benighted warrior
Venator by nature
Best of my kind
Consummate killer
That particular package 
Which you've been so carelessly
Pushing around
It belongs to me
That is my destiny
So when your dreams and nightmares
Start crystallizing
And your dark past comes a knocking
And you start “fighting”
And falling…
There will be no
Fleeing
Not this time
No more hiding
Just one more hole they'll start filling
For
Standing in your way
Immovable
A dreaded and familiar shadow from yesterday
Promises made under false assumptions
Can't bind the present
Or cure past transgressions
Nor can "good" deeds recently spent
Wash clean the red hand
That slew the innocent
What you've claimed is rightfully mine
Lost and found
It is now reclamation time
It's been a long, long, long journey
Dear Mr. Saturday
I know you're expecting me

It doesn't matter

Mr. Saturday  - © 2004 Ahkenaton  all rights reserved