Blood, Death, Slavery

July 20, 2010
By Andrew Meade BRONZE, Kokomo, Indiana
Andrew Meade BRONZE, Kokomo, Indiana
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Blood, death, slavery,
Filth, lies, and mockery,
Pride, shame, and foolery.
This is my history,
Who I was and still am.

This is what I try to run from,
What I try to hide from,
What I try to stop,
But I cannot.

For I am a mere man,
A speck in the world of time.
My being is like mist,
Here one day and gone the next.

All around, beings more powerful than myself,
Dance with joy at each of my failures,
And they urge me into the next one.
I hate what I do, but I still do it.
Because it's fun.

Heartache and tears are my friends,
I know them well.
A sword sharper than any blad I've ever seen or heard of
Now lays in my hands.
And it's pointed at those who curse me with their presence.
The weapon is poisssed but not used.
I have become addicted to the filth
that has ruled my life.
Like a king with no money.

Here is where
I make my stand.

This is where the battle ends,
And the war begins.

A war of all wars.
A war of the mind.
A war of the body.
A war of the soul.
A war of the heart.
A war that will not end until
The true King comes back.

For the King is coming,
That is for sure.
Now it's just a matter of
Digging in my heels and
NEVER giving up.

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