Samurai X

The bright circle

Rising in the mist

First drip of dew

A shade of light crimson

I've washed my hands

Many, many times

I close my eyes

I sigh

Every breath I take

Is one stolen from those

Who have fallen due to my sword

Waiting silently

Touching the cold metal, so familiar

As is the warm smell and taste of blood

Raining down

Falling from the heavens above

My hands, stained

From my enemies not standing down

With each stroke of my blade

I cut the heart of darkness itself

For those who stand in my way

If your blood runs black

You will feel

The wrath of my sword

Having pierced my own heart

And drenched in my own blood