Kill the Devil-Soldier
(June 13, 2005)
The solitude reigns.
The coldness numbs.
Through morbid, tensioned, saddened spirits
I pine, sulk, cry,
I rage! Rage with a passionate spirit
That burns through all and nothing-
Nothing for reasons thus:
This depression is mine own problem.
I think back to days
When all was fine and fair,
When all was not in a state of sadness,
When grief and strife did not strike at
People weak and frail,
That let their emotions flow,
That let their subconscious speak,
That let their actions show their sadness.
I am one of them-
I cannot control my saddened self,
Filled with grief, indomitable rage,
Passions, fires of hell!
Works of Satan and all he lives for!
He works his work in affairs of mine.
Days pass, full of sighs
And shudders, convulsions
And tearful eyes, regretting the past,
Regretting the present, fearing the future,
Hating the world and everything in it,
Everything that breathes, that lives,
That ultimately dies.
I would kill all, but yet I do not truly
Want to kill anything,
For my soul seems to lack the purest evil
That Satan does possess.
I think this, and my soul is lightened,
Relieved of the heavy burden that did
Previously sit upon my crippled back.
Cripple, cripple, cripple, yes,
I was a cripple;
Crippled with sadness, with grief, with strife,
Rage, passion, all,
But not evil.
I emit a shuddering pause
Through my face and actions,
As I show that my inner conflicts must be resolved.
I must meet my opponent head on,
Armed to the tooth, I must
Attack him, striking once!
Twice! Thrice! With amazing force and power
I must do the deadly blows
That will send him back to the fires of hell
And I may be lifted to happiness once again.
And so I confront him; tall and strong
He appears, he towers,
But I do not cower, instead I
Swing my sword of purity, innocence,
Integrity, passion, at his evil soul of
Hate, bitterness, and frustration.
He pauses, he senses the power in my sword,
And the potential I serve:
To annihilate his being.
And so he strikes fast and hard
Before this is yet to come;
He does not want the worst to come
From my passionate soul.
I will kill him, kill, kill, kill,
To strike for sadness,
Grief, rage, depression,
Kill, kill,kill,
I must end his reign of terror
Upon my weak soul,
I must kill.
And I will not stop at him,
I will kill all that goes with him,
That sides with him,
That associates with him,
I will take them all to a fiery death,
To hell, to eternity, there and back
I�ll come, bearing his head as a token,
A memento of my struggle to end
The oppressive nature of his very being
That he had entrapped within my soul.
Moments�..
The silence��
The darkness�..
The sadness�..
Hate, anger, rage, passion,
EVIL�����..
No, I cannot, will not be evil,
I can defeat him without evil�s use,
Yes I will, I am able.
My sword goes through his heart.
I struck for humanity,
For my own self,
And to end his bitter reign.
The tension eases.
I am not sad,
He is gone,
I am happy.