Redundant Self

I think I should have let someone know

But it would not have quenched the fire

What good could it have done for a dead man walking,

The fallen or the ones on a funeral pyre?

I am the reaper, but instead I rake the leaves,

Of the men that came before, of the ones who died before.

I'm weak now, or so it seems

I am the man who comes in day because he fears the nightmares tread,

Or the dreams that draw me in, or the dark thoughts that plague my head

You believe my secret stories for they would not lie to you

For their tongues are tied times over, their tongues lie and then they waver.

Their tongues are dead upon the ground.

I think I might have let them ponder, let them sit within my wake

I think I might have let them wander, let them wager for my sake

I think I might have let them barter for their life, perhaps their soul

But I think I might have freed it and taken complete control

I am the one who knows no secrets left to haggle for my heart

I am the one who takes from others that which I myself cannot impart

I am the one who sleeps so soundly for the drug is heavy in my veins

For the emptiness inside me will not let me sleep away my pains

Believe me, I would have hurt you, I think I might once have struck you first

The blood was spilled before you knew the ancient battle was rehearsed

I am the man who praised your slaughter for the world was black and grey

Some crimson decoration was the order of the day

I think I ought to have let one know

Who they faced in the battle frenzy

Who they thought they could deceive

Was in fact the darkest entity

Consumed by the darkness leant me

I was a burden to your lands and the houses that I burned

And I pillage all your treasures that you fought for and you earned

Believe me I do suffer; but the tricks are old to me

And I harbour no ill intent for the one who dares to strike at me

See my cloaks flies in the wind and I see you shiver in the cold

Can you hear the haggler harking? Do you know your souls already sold?

I was the man who'd make you scream before you ever hit the ground

Even now the stairs are clearing; won't you follow this old rogue down?

I trace my oldest footsteps, the shadows infiltrate my eyes

Towards the torture of my sanctuary and its abyss

With its endless space for wondering

What brought me down to this?