This erupting blood is on you, my friend.

As much as I can cry to make amends.

This broken heart doesn't heed reason

Of rationality this is the greatest treason.

But look not here, I urge your judgement

Infinite pain is this story's only ending.

On the path of blood and toil I walk now

For this my determination is unbending.

My little hut burns silently in the night.

Engulfed by flames that tower above.

Those who could help now stand away

And look at this desecration of love.

Of unending pain, this pill I will swallow.

So that you can carry on that smile.

Left, right or center doesn't quite matter

So you can stay away from this fire by a mile.

No room for the words that ring hollow

No space for the promises so shallow.

Dimensions of the pain, always unknown

Grew continually with me as I have grown.

If only the heart would sit and think

Maybe the pain would pass in a blink.

But the pained heart, forever restless

Is getting used to this drab emptiness.

In doing this, however, you are not alone

'Lovers' who came before had a heart of stone.

The castles of success that they now build,

Will one day vanish at the first gaze of wind.

Now, don't say that I count and show.

Because even on life's path as you grow

Remember my blood that oozed everyday

And lies ahead of you on your new way.

Your new beginnings, they come they go.
Like a childish river in eternal flow.
Of the recent past a long story I had.

Won't tell all, so you could be glad.

Never knew you felt so suppressed.

Your not telling, now leaves me depressed.

I refuse too, to wash the dirty laundry stack

I don't just move on, I still watch your back.

The velvet gloves are now removed,

Unforgiving hell's fury back in full force.

The venom, long forgotten and discarded

Now flows blue along the veins' course.

Every hardship will now be destroyed

Every friendship put to a steely test.

On this untested path of fiery revenge

He is ready to walk alone from the rest.

The dark, thundering clouds gather again,
Over the ravaged country that slowly heals.

The tentative green covering the ruins past

Having not recovered, in reverence it kneels.

The ghosts of battles past, both won and lost

Ravage the war-scarred barren countryside.

Men have come and men have withered away

The struggle stays; over men's minds it presides.

This dogged silence is still tentatively balanced

Between the realms of solitude and loneliness.

Its quietude is still not a silent roar of a mind

Inching towards a forlorn man's helplessness.

But it is at such times, the noise beeped out

That his true self tends to show itself to man.

When tectonic shifts change a man's conscience

When he becomes a victor from an also-ran.