He Who Lives By The Sword, Dies By The Sword

Another shot fired in anger
to speed our own demise, to aid the
beast that hunts us,
upon retreat from blurring skies.

We suffer the pain of blood
flow amidst a sea of closing doors;
clutching tightly to
the sound of our own screams...
these words won't reach the shore.

Burning down the sky
'till there is nothing left;
we smother every feeling
under the weight of regret.

Our fists held in the air
won't give us the strength to decide:
What's right? Who's wrong?
Where do we go from here?

And as we're sinking to the bottom,
we leave our anchors unrestrained;
because the promise of redemption escapes us.

Peacefully, I will sleep beneath the scorching sheets;
and upon the ice of failure,
I will dream that I am one with the flames;
and in the wind, the world will hear my name.