Wounded. Staring at the gaping hole - shock.
This was not supposed to be that fight, those rounds - from where?
Laughter I hear, carefree cackles of one who never knew
Responsibility, dues and costs, penalties dear. For whim to be entertained
not wise enough to realize entertained is enslaved.
I hear voices calling my name, telling me to hold on, this wasn't my fault
It was - is. I chose to think myself wiser, trusting my judgement
Foolish. Now, dying.
I can feel my heartbeat increasing. I know, less to move it must go faster
thermodynamics even in death must be satisfied. Why in life we are not all bound by such an equalizer - I'll now never know.
I had a foot, legs - no longer felt yet there. Toes protruding from worn sock.
All I feel is the burning of the phosphor.
She laughs still, thinking in life her vict'ry but nay, her laughter betrays her
Uncertain, alone, thinking she is in control when truth revealing,
She controls nothing.
Take what you will and can little idiot. Foolish jester of the court of your own mind.
Be certain in your own supremacy for therein your demise.
And, I smile knowing that if is I who'll laugh at last. As into final slumber I slip
A caress from my Princess, my blade ****** deep into the enemy
And I sleep. No more voices, no laughter, yet I see the amazement
Faces before contorted in mocking humiliation, now stare in disbelief
Reality has hit.
Death alone liberates but man's soul, Christ, his spirit takes.
At last I kneel before my Princess, her hand upon worn pommel upon mine,
Fuller stain'd with the conquered blood, point to foible worn dull from the slash
Her hand brushes the scarred worn face
Eye to eye, though still on my knee I sleep - and breathe my last
Her kiss upon my lips unto eternal sleep until called forth again I rise
To raise my sword again and ****** against the horde unleashed as blood cold
Runs like river deep in Spring thaw o'erflowing banks from a far land
laughter cackling on the shore and my curse endure again bared
Poor lost and wicked child.
Your victory my death
My death, your defeat.
For I shall live on forever and your dreams haunt as surely as if I were there
E'en though you deny it
My Princess stands protected again, with raised sword and shield, enveloped by my wing
My breath from her I draw - sweet like honey's kiss - and I sleep in eternal bliss.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Wounded. Staring at the gaping hole - shock.
This was not supposed to be that fight, those rounds - from where?
Laughter I hear, carefree cackles of one who never knew
Responsibility, dues and costs, penalties dear. For whim to be entertained
not wise enough to realize entertained is enslaved.
I hear voices calling my name, telling me to hold on, this wasn't my fault
It was - is. I chose to think myself wiser, trusting my judgement
Foolish. Now, dying.
I can feel my heartbeat increasing. I know, less to move it must go faster
thermodynamics even in death must be satisfied. Why in life we are not all bound by such an equalizer - I'll now never know.
I had a foot, legs - no longer felt yet there. Toes protruding from worn sock.
All I feel is the burning of the phosphor.
She laughs still, thinking in life her vict'ry but nay, her laughter betrays her
Uncertain, alone, thinking she is in control when truth revealing,
She controls nothing.
Take what you will and can little idiot. Foolish jester of the court of your own mind.
Be certain in your own supremacy for therein your demise.
And, I smile knowing that if is I who'll laugh at last. As into final slumber I slip
A caress from my Princess, my blade ****** deep into the enemy
And I sleep. No more voices, no laughter, yet I see the amazement
Faces before contorted in mocking humiliation, now stare in disbelief
Reality has hit.
Death alone liberates but man's soul, Christ, his spirit takes.
At last I kneel before my Princess, her hand upon worn pommel upon mine,
Fuller stain'd with the conquered blood, point to foible worn dull from the slash
Her hand brushes the scarred worn face
Eye to eye, though still on my knee I sleep - and breathe my last
Her kiss upon my lips unto eternal sleep until called forth again I rise
To raise my sword again and ****** against the horde unleashed as blood cold
Runs like river deep in Spring thaw o'erflowing banks from a far land
laughter cackling on the shore and my curse endure again bared
Poor lost and wicked child.
Your victory my death
My death, your defeat.
For I shall live on forever and your dreams haunt as surely as if I were there
E'en though you deny it
My Princess stands protected again, with raised sword and shield, enveloped by my wing
My breath from her I draw - sweet like honey's kiss - and I sleep in eternal bliss.
Thoughts following a consideration of teenage insolence, a Princess to my heart, and the inevitability of repetition
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