During combat to the death,
is maybe the only moment when you can gauge,
the true potential of the human drive.
Only at that moment, you realize
the ecstasy in warm dripping blood,
in feeling the last of a beating heart,
in granting the end to a soul in terror.

The two possibilities in question,
the drive to hunt and the need to survive,
both stand on the same pedestal of reality,
both value the same in the scale of nature.
but that scenario persists only,
until one realizes their true potential to play God.
It is at this moment of fear of mortality,
it is at this moment when one can see life leaving a vessel,
this moment makes the hunter realize,
the inability of God over Death.

Calmer thoughts, replaced by wars
Resentment only summons more,
Shock that thunders with a crack,
Now, there's no more turning back,

Pebbles scraped, tumble and dive,
Smashing shallow ground from high,
A tragic fate that calls to all,
A pushed, prodded, and triggered fall,

Doom crystalized, serrated and bladed,
A glass knife thrown, from impact, aided,
Adrenaline amplified, enticed mind,
Alas, the influence, an unnatural tide,

Explosive ideations, undesired,
Optimism and life mired,
Pysche turned to marionette,
Taken by subconscious threat,

The gnashing teeth of the spirit,
A silent figure, you already fear it,
Collapse of the soul, defenses beat,
He who pulls the strings, is he who you'll meet.

This everlasting torture.
The continuous push and pull.
It's such a beautiful horror,
with butterflies, a handful.