He Who Lives By The Sword, Dies By The Sword

Another shot fired in anger

to speed our own demise, to aid the

beast that hunts us,

upon retreat from blurring skies.

We suffer the pain of blood

flow amidst a sea of closing doors;

clutching tightly to

the sound of our own screams...

these words won't reach the shore.

Burning down the sky

'till there is nothing left;

we smother every feeling

under the weight of regret.

Our fists held in the air

won't give us the strength to decide:

What's right? Who's wrong?

Where do we go from here?

And as we're sinking to the bottom,

we leave our anchors unrestrained;

because the promise of redemption escapes us.

Peacefully, I will sleep beneath the scorching sheets;

and upon the ice of failure,

I will dream that I am one with the flames;

and in the wind, the world will hear my name.