Molotav Cocktail

Whose Molotov cocktail is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite angry though.
He was cross like a dark Othello.
I watch him pace. I cry hell no.

He gives his Molotov cocktail a shake,
And screams I’ve made a bad mistake.
The only other sound’s the break,
Of distant glass, of heat and bake.

The Molotov cocktail is fire, destruction and deep,
But he has promises to keep,
Tormented with nightmares he never sleeps.
Revenge is a promise this one will keep.

They rise from their cursed bed,
With thoughts of violence in their head,
A flash of rage and they see red.
Without pause I turn, leave them dead.

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