dark hours

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.

Remember, remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
Should ever be forgot…

Voil?! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran,
cast vicariously as both victim and villain
by the vicissitudes of fate.
This visage, no mere veneer of vanity,
is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished.
However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation
stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish
these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing
the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.
The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive,
not in vain, for the value and veracity
of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant
and the virtuous.
Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose,
so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you
and you may call me V.