Thoughts of the Omen.


I'm called an Omen
For I forbear death.
I'm called the Demonic Bastard
For those who by me, sell their souls.

No mark can hide from me, nor delay me long enough
For I sense their fear and it is a beacon to me.
No one can run fast enough or long enough
For they are merely human and they fall prey to weakness.

Everyone pleads for their lives before the fall
They do not realize that it is inevitable.
The old ones know there time has come
They do not plead nor scream and fight.

The young ones plead
They beg, they scream
They fight, they weep
For they know not what else to do.

This last one asks for mercy.
My mercy, he asks that I spare his life
He says to clean my hands of blood
He says that his blood would drown me.

I give him the mercy of the blade,
For what is a drop in an ocean of blood?