The world won't stop because you write it in blood.
The trees will breathe, wind will sing.
For the destruction you create will only affect yourself.
There is a lack of humanity in your eyes.
Something that feeds on its own.
We all fear it;
step around the cracks,
never on them.
It channels through you,
rises in the red dawn.
Never rests,
just lingers.
The hands that grasp it are the ones that strangle.
Using to see through noise;
for their greater good,
not ours.
Repeat history only with worst re-actions.
To be fed to the lions,
by fork and knife.