The Book Of Poems

Traitor

Reign In your glory like a budding angel. Illuminating the world every step of the way with your grace. The seeds of good fortune are desolate under your presence as a crude ruler.

Drive yourself Into a corner, allowing eternal darkness to consume you whole. Black orbes Instead of eyes and coal Instead of a heart. The devil Is your grave keeper and I am your match maker.

The smile tugging at your lips and your vermillion eyes drive me Insane with bloodlust. The moon Is out, my claws are bound and yet here you are being revered as a hero. You're no saviour, you're a traitorous fiend. A night crawler that haunts me even In my grave when my soul Is supposed to be resting In eternal slumber.

You deserve to be here Instead of me. You're a lowly scoundrel that would take any measures necessary to get want you want. Emitting terror and sauntering over hopes and dreams are the very things that make you the Devil's right hand man. You're up there while I'm buried, already ten feet gone. Masking your emotions behind a fake prominence of self righteousness, It's no wonder how you survived the war, where as I perished In battle.

Even after everything that you made me go through, I still can't bring myself to hate you fully. You never forget the one who taught you how to feel; how to stand up on your feet and put up a good fight. Lady Faith Is one hard bargainer, but It's understandable for a lady of her stature.

I would bid thee farewell but my good Intent would merely be wasted on you. I deny the urge to reminisce of our time together. Instead of goodbye let me say hello to a new world, a world without the likes of you.