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.
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?
Playing at wiseties, you have damned us all.