Walking through that door
It's twenty years ago
Stress binds the head
Yet loosens the mouth
Endless circle of love
Laced with repression
Though it is ever-so subtle
The foul flavor remains
Leaching into every crevice
Seeping through every pore
Spewing forth at the most inopportune moments
It is that explosion of the vile
That will be remembered
It will color perception almost black
The worst overshadows
The best withers away
The past is the present on the other side
This time, it was another who was the lamb
The sacrifice was unbearable and heartbreaking
As they craved fresh blood
And got their fix
Forever silenced,
To form an untainted opinion
It must be looked upon with bare eyes
Soul shaking, and silent
Only by lurking in the shadows
Can the wounds begin to heal
Under cover of the sacrifice of others,
There is safety.
But there is no freedom in guilt
There is no joy in their pain
Scars yield a thicker hide
Jaded by experience
Yet eternally marred by bearing witness
This transitory passage need not be
Cannot be, and will not be again
The innocent will no longer be sacrificed
For it will forever be me upon that altar
It is all can be done