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Becoming
A flash of steel lifless and cool
a growing pain and crimson pool,
the moment can pass for no return.
A note written for whom it may consern,
no one listens to the barking at the moon
revenge can be brooding later or soon.
For who knows of what we say
to the dark watches in misdst dismay.
Callous jestures and broken ears,
false prayers awaken fears
gathered from all the years,
shattered mind and final tears
shed with lump in throat.
With crimson stains and silent soul,
day of blackness the bell doth toll
a peaceful man no longer,
into the darkness his hate finds hunger.
