I'm tired.

Of losing the ones I love
because no matter how hard I fight
I lose them still,
is this truly
a part of God's will?

This pain
of my futile sacrifice?
Shall I suffer death, not once but twice?

A part of me I leave with them,
a part of my love I imparted when I first met them,
and I felt the pain as the departed from me.

I asked for them back,
away from the shadows, the evil cloaked in black.

So comfortable was that darkness
that whispered sweet nothings in their ears
it gave comfort to some,
while forcing others to succumb to their fears.

I'm so tired of crying for my loves
all of my dears
I'm tired of fighting, crying and dying,
all this for all these years.

But still I will
run, and scream, and shout, and fight it all out.

Until the last light of the burning sun,
or until this war is won.
I will fight.

For them.
I will not tire.

I can't.