Swimmy9

Hopes a shield that we use to combat the fact that we can't go back and that's just that. The past is not a cure, it's an antibody that we adapt to fight the trap. The hopeless hole that deceives your future into believing that the past tense you is an endless loop. So break the binds of fear and cut the ties of the day old you and take a step into the new.

     I drew my sword, the steel sliding out of the sheath was almost in rhythmic sync with the racing of my heart. All around lay the bodies of my brothers in arms, torn and mangled. I knew this fight only held a vein ending to my efforts, but I cannot cowar, when greater men than I have stood their ground and died with honor. I tightened the grip around the hilt of my blade and prepared for my end, an end worthy of honor.     I felt it before I saw it, an overwhelming sense of darkness and evil. A shadow emerged from down the corridor and approached steadily without waiver. I could feel something sinking into my mind, trying to worm it's w

The blood runs red, for the keeper of the dead. For before the world could even shout or cry, you were already the reaper there's no need to lie. Your soul bled out, with its light blackened out. You understood the hurt and could carry the pain, you can't blame people for calling you insane. Death stopped by frequently to say "Hi", and you screamed enraged "Sorry, no time for goodbyes!" Sometimes you must stand yourself up, and be ready to choose, if your will is willing to possibly lose. Here's what it takes, not a big leap of faith, but a singular promise to keep your brothers safe.

Killing you was well and done, yet no closer are we to the battle won. The mask of blood concealed my hate, yet I will forever ponder if this was fate, the coming of events felt fast yet late. Leaving one with misery and depravity to commiserate. For the ones who've lost, yet lose no less than anyone else in lifes game of chess. For what is worse to live or die, if all you lived was but a lie. Here you are, where this path hath led, to the one and great eternal bed. The graves grasp is warm and tight, useless it is to thrash, and fight. Here's to the day when the battles won, for killing you had already been done.

His scream ignites the night, but his fright is not something that is seen. It's the simplest thought that cannot be forgot. A living nightmare of things he thought he'd never think. He clenched his fist as he faced the image of the man who shall forever haunt him. The dirty reflection offered no protection from this horrid man's affliction. Could it be that man in the mirror who has a face we seem to share, be the fatal reality that contains his one and true fatality. For this night ignites not by his scream, but by the endless ones that ring deep inside of me.

I am the bane of hell, the vengeance for whom injustice befell. For if wicked acts are what you seek, my vengeful wrath is what you'll reap. Though God is he whom sorts them out, I am the collector of this mortal account. Now before you pray to plead your reason, know that you'll only fill the air with treason. For your victims that your injustice hath befell, I am your bane, who's vengeance shall surely damn you straight to hell.

In Hell I am, in fact it's the only place I ever have been. Held back by chains, not for the purpose of pain, but to hold what little is keeping me sane. Where inside only violence coincides with an empty heart, deep down where no light resides. Nothing to desuade me, for this is my goal, to drown in the black that has engulfed my very soul. Wearing a mask that reflects the look of content, but made to comfort and deceive is this things intent. To keep all Blind to what's kept well confined. For Hell I am, in fact it's all I ever have been.