Humiliation. Disgrace

The universe is indifferent to you and your struggle.

There is no god waiting for you.

You cannot change this world of corruption.

Thrash and burn as you might, your insignificance is too great for those above you to even gaze in your direction.

Crimson and obsidian skies, rust and rot grow like a cancer on these decrepit walls, in this derelict kingdom.

The screams of agony scratch and claw at the eroded flash that is the ground.

The permanent eclipse of despair wears down on the twisted shoulders of those that roam this godforsaken land.

The light this world needs to change and heal has long burnt out.

The roaring eye of the Sun watches every speck of dust

In this fallen land of ash and dust.

And on the tenth day in the lake of everlasting embers, I shall arise.

And I shall declare it so,

And it shall be so,

And without mercy,

My iron will shall become divine providence across the halls of pandemonium

Like blasphemy across God’s kingdom,

I will be a thousand bleeding Moons

Against his radiant Sun.

And light my twisted wings on fire,

As I fall into pandemonium.

And I will show the devil himself

What it means to feel despair and fear.

He will know what it means to be broken and ripped apart.

Come demon!

Unsheathe your weapon.

Let us see,

Who is the greater monster.

Let us see,

Who tears the other down first.

Let our battles rip shreds into this plane of reality.

Let us bring down the gates of heaven and hell itself.

And let us not stop.

Not until I am bled dry.

Not until my bones are nothing but specks.

Not until the very air in my lungs has long burnt out.

Not until my heart has long been buried.

Until that very moment,

I will unleash upon this vapid world,

The same unearthly agonies it has dealt unto me.

I will wrench it free from peace and love,

Burn into it, cut my scars of anguish into it,

The marks of justice.

I will show this world what it has created.

Until it is nothing but a desolate husk.

A rotten, scorched wasteland of sin.

Where the fetid rivers of the damned flows free off its edge.

Where the screams of those long forgotten are trapped

Where the fractured Sun brings only disease and scorch to its surface.

Where the twilight Moon only heralds the arrival of the eclipse of humanity.

And everything shall burn and suffer in eternal plight,

With one most of all,

Above them all.

In derelict rule,

Crowned the king of the fallen ones.

Upon his shattered visage, his crown lies

And on countless corpses, his throne.

For he is their salvation, as he is their ruler.

This world has lost touch.

It no longer bears any sound or sensation to me,

Not lasting nor fleeting.

And though I speak as you do and laugh as you do,

These words are not mine, and neither is this flesh.

It is but a mask fused into my being,

An amalgamation of atrocities.

And though you can hold out your hand and meet mine,

And feel the flesh over my bones as it is over yours,

And though this world moves for me as it does for you,

And though I have all that seems necessary for being human,

I distinctly lack a soul.

A being.

A heart.

In blinding light and in shrouded night,

In sunrise and dusk,

It is all the same.

And so is my cold emotionless gaze.

This hollow husk of a shell that I occupy,

I only bear it to one day act out my reason.

The truth I have found in all my existence.

I lack what it means to be human.

Devoid of love and compassion,

Of kindness and empathy.

Only the dissonant screeching of suffering and carnal pain echo across my skull,

Hatred, anger and rancor consume my very being until I am nothing but a minister of pain.

Visions of the end of days blind my eyes.

I see, I hear, I touch, I taste, I smell,

But I simply am not there.

In my mind,

The flowers still bloom every morning,

In ethereal beauty.

The Sun still warms the floor of my busy house.

The wind still barges in through the window,

Disturbing papers left on the table and the chimes hung in a lonely corner.

Children still run after each other all day,

Their voices echoing in the courtyard of my memories.

In my mind, I am there.

Innocent.

Uncaring.

Free.

I wonder where that part of me went

When dreams of flight and vast sceneries,

Gave way to restless nights.

Midnight snacks gave way to vice.

And still I mourn, the death of my innocence.

And I find myself reliving those moments day after day,

As the ashes of nostalgia wash over me.

And it is with a heavy heart and light mind,

I bury all I was; all I became.

The voices of that time long gone burn as I swallow them.

And with my head hung low,

With shame and guilt on my heavy shoulders,

With a deep exhale,

I convince myself.

I am not that person anymore,

Times have changed, and so have I.

I convince myself, I have done nothing wrong.

“I am still a good person.”

Yet, when I look in a mirror, I do not recognize what stares back.

Its dark gaze is not mine,

Its jaunty shoulders are not mine,

Its lanky frame is not mine,

Its thinning hair is not mine,

Its corrupt thoughts are not mine,

Its nervous pacing is not mine,

Its erratic tendencies are not mine,

Its addictions

Not mine

Not mine

Not mine.

But, I know.

Somewhere deep inside me, I know.

Its emaciated face

Is mine.

What have I become?

The idea of making a better world never appealed to me

It’s a constant Karmic cycle,

If you go against the world, the world goes against you.

Because all study is useless

The Sun will still shine and the birds will still sing because it’s a new day God’s Kingdom.

You pray to these false idols like they haven’t abandoned you.

You cling to your faith as if that is what will save you, redeem your soul.

Let me ask you,

You talk to your “God” so often, how many times has he talked back?

Tell me,

Will it be your morals that will protect you from the burning hatred of the lake of fire?

Will it be your love that will save your skin from being flayed by the whips of fury?

Will it be compassion that tempers your skin until, as iron, you will learn to love the eternal torment that awaits you?

Your kind hopes for a better world,

In a universe of unfeeling bitterness.

You continue to search for relief.

I wonder,

How long will it take for your mind to learn the truth?

Tell me,

Will it be your prayer that saves you,

In this land where even the priests are deaf and blind?

Ochre eyes.

Obsidian skin.

Crystal words and no next of kin.

An idol with an emotion tied to it.

A mere sculpture of beauty.

And a sensation.

One of comfort, of coming home.

And I broke it,

Snapped it in two.

Its shattered visage looks up at me.

They all haunt me.

Imprints in my skin,

Of everyone I’ve met and done wrong.

Memory is a curse,

One I bear too well.

My regret has never been in my actions, I tell myself.

It is in the world that forced me to make such choices.

The world is a cruel and unjust place and I, simply its agent.

But here I arrive at the crossroads again.

Asking myself if this is me.

I look in mirrors and wonder

“Do I still know you?”

Is it really this world that is wrong?

Is it not my very existence I loathe so dearly?

I am just an agent of my own will.

My mind fragments and drifts further away from reality.

Regret and hatred consume my being as I turn them outwards, to the world.

I will walk this path as many times as I need to. I swore.

The sin of the Sun.

Who do you think you are?

Standing tall above me?

Whatever fate you have suffered,

I have conquered.

Whatever mountains you have climbed,

I have chiseled from stone.

Whatever oceans you have crossed,

I have braved long before you sough to try.

These hardened eyes of mine,

They hide a tempest behind them.

I see what you really are,

Behind that shameful masquerade of strength and accomplishment.

I see your weakness.

You bear the eyes of one who has not yet seen this world.

Your smile shines with naivety,

And your laugh echoes with ignorance.

Who are you, a mere mortal

To stand before me?

For one should kneel before a king.

This crown that sits on my head,

Would crush you with its weight.

This iron throne,

Would pierce and tear your flesh.

And you can lead an army,

Even in the face of certain death.

But it is I who can lead them to victory.

And when it is your time,

For the eternal sleep,

Then you shall see,

As you look up repent for your sins,

You shall see,

Standing proud in conquest,

The banners of my might.

It was I,

Born to take.

After all,

Why shouldn’t I?

This world is mine for the taking,

So that is what I shall do.

Even the land you step on,

The air you breathe,

The possessions you hold so dearly,

It is all meant to be mine.

And I will wait in patient misery,

Watching these heathens trample my treasure.

And I shall strike, when these snakes least expect it.

And my judgment shall be fierce and quick.

I shall take away every drop.

Every grain.

Every speck.

It’s all mine.

And inevitably,

It shall return to its rightful ruler.

Blessed is he,

Forgiven from my warpath.

For I shall leave none standing in my wake.

With boiling blood,

Rivers of blood will flow from this sinner’s hands.

Violence and pain are the only truths of this cruel world,

And I am their rightful enforcer.

Let us see how much your diplomacy protects you under the weight of my fists.

Let us see if your love shields you from your doom.

Tell me, do you ignore these screams on purpose?

Do you choose not to see

This wasteland for what it is?

An abomination, malformed by malice and suffering,

Where even the wind sings songs of pain in dissonant tunes.

Or does your faith blind you?

Does a great light hide the umbral plains that lie before you?

Let us see,

If it is your trust in the almighty that saves you,

When it is your own sins,

Clawing at the corners of your mind.

The shadow they are born from is your own,

Oh believer.

Let us see if you still see the light,

When my wrath shrouds your eyes

And reveals to you,

Reality.

It’s a mirror.

That voice inside of you,

Clawing at your mind.

Festering in the dark.

This world only has one constant.

Experience.

How one reacts the experience is what changes.

Two sides of the same coin.

How much has your past shaped you?

Molded you?

Have you sought to avoid it?

Fight it?

Never repeat it?

Have you realized yet,

How futile that is?

Have you realized,

That the efforts of one man cannot change this temple of hate?

You cannot fight truth.

So why bother?

Why do you try so hard to be different?

Better than this world?

This world that showed you no mercy.

This world that broke you and filled you with despair,

Do you really think that acceptance will change any of that?

This world that reeks of anger,

Where the water resembles venom.

Where the dead lead the living,

Oh traveler, take my humble advice.

If rock bottom is where this world keeps bringing you back to,

Next time,

Bring a shovel.

I miss the warmth.

Long and lonely is the odyssey I must complete.

Oh how I long for a time I was unchanged.

Imperfect, but human.

I miss the warmth.

The one on my skin,

The one in my heart and soul.

But I need not suffer.

The question of need has long past,

It is simply one of justice.

Some do not deserve attachment and beauty,

Forsaken forever to see this world in infinite shades of black and grey.

To suffer the bitter cold, the freezing consequence of their own actions.

To only watch what they sacrificed.

To live in perpetual longing and agony.

Hatred my fire and my soul the kindling.

So once again I sit in solitude.

Perhaps this is better for all the denizens of this land.

To rid them of the curse that plagues them.

I can only hope,

They can once again feel the warmth I miss so dearly.