Look at you staring in contempt

At fields drenched in the blood of your enemies.

Didn't you know revenge is a fool's game,

In which the wise always wait out?

Haven't you got a damn clue,

As you look over the wreckage,

Only to find yourself in the scarlet remains.

Death may be a macabre thing,

But all you see is beauty

As the smell of death rides the wind.

Carnage rots in the darkness,

And your sick, twisted self takes a bite.

Haven't you heard mercy screaming in the distance?

Take the breath from your lover,

As you run your decaying fingers over her throat.

Blue and bloated from deaths grip,

You smile; a damp, sickening thing,

Gagging all caught in your barbed net.

Splinters of metal stick from your skin,

But you pay no mind

As you choke the life out of those in your way.

You fool!

Don't you know revenge is an untamable temptress,

Who once caught sight of,

Leads you into death ridden battle fields,

And plays at your soul

Even after the reaper has claimed it?

You fool,

Playing at wiseties, you have damned us all.