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The Gypsy Curse

No man can wrong another, Karma will be the judge

By Marie381Uk Published 9 months ago 2 min read
By George’s Girl 2025

The Gypsy Curse

One quiet night, under stars so bright,

A gypsy tied his horse, snug and tight.

Well-fed and weary, the stallion slept,

But in the shadows, a thief sat waiting.

He sneaked in, with a heart so dark,

Cut the wires of alarm, silenced the warning.

By dawn’s early light, the horse was gone,

A beautiful stallion, now lost.

Days turned to weeks, and the anger grew,

The gypsy cried out; what else could he do?

“Return my dear stallion, oh winds of fate,

For without my loyal friend, my heart feels the ache.”

With fury and passion, he raised his hand high,

Cursed the theft, sending prayers to the sky.

May the thieves feel the weight of what they have done,

And know restless nights till justice is won.”

A bond broken deep, a trust turned to doubt,

The gypsy’s heart heavy, he believed in karma and fate.

In the silence that followed, he watched and he prayed,

For the day he would see his beloved horse again.

For in the dance of fate, under the moon’s glow,

Every wrong must be balanced, for karma to show.

And so, the world spins, with whispers of loss,

Where the gypsy’s deep curse meets the thief’s heavy cross.

The thief's story.

In shadows I wandered, with dreams in my eyes,

A heart full of freedom beneath open skies.

But greed whispered softly, pulled me off track.

Now I sit in this cell, no way to go back.

I chased after treasures, a life filled with thrill,

But the price of my choices has haunted me still.

A gypsy horse stolen, so vibrant and free,

Now lost to my wrongs—what’s become of me?

The gang promised riches, but friendship was fake.

In their ruthless game, I was the one to break.

One fateful night, when my trust was misplaced,

The shadows turned on me; I ran with no pace.

The freedom I lost when I stole that horse,

The gypsy's curse followed, a dark force.

Now here in this prison, I count all my sins,

For the life that I wasted, regret always wins.

Tomorrow they’ll hang me for all I have done.

Regret fills my heart as I watch the sun rise.

I’m sorry for the choices that led me to fate,

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About the Creator

Marie381Uk

I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️

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Comments (1)

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  • Seema Patel9 months ago

    Wrong company, guilt, consequences. Nicely narrated.

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