Alone in the desert,
A gun strapped to his back,
He stares to the horizon.

Wind rustling his hair,
Sand whipping at his feet,
He watches the battle rage on.

Face of deadly calm,
Hands loose at his sides,
He prepares to unleash his wrath.

Scars tainting his face,
Internal pain bruising his soul,
He takes a step closer.

Alone in the desert,
A gun strapped to his back,
He whispers to the burning light:

A silent promise of torment,
A silent promise of misery,
A silent promise of pain.

To everyone who dared scathe him,
To everyone who dared look at him,
And to everyone unwilling to die.