Insight On The God Of Death
God of death,
a black angel from below.
His wish, to destroy.
His reality, his life,
exactly as he'd planned.
Yet he was pure.
All he wished and wanted,
he got.
But he received more,
he received feelings.
A soul.
He received love.
He returned love.
He embraced friendship.
He killed the opposed.
He fought for others,
so they could live in peace.
Total pacifism was their dream.
It soon became a nightmare.
Many were lost.
He was always there.
Always watching, silently laughing,
all the while crying.
Torn between light and dark.
Laughing and crying.
Living and dying.
Going insane,
sleeping with his eyes open on some nights.
Freezing in the sun.
Hot in the cool rain.
Holding a gun to his head, and pulling the trigger.
Although it was empty,
beads of sweat ran down his head.
Was he meant to live this way?
Why did he have the friends?
Or smile or frown?
Hate should be the only thing,
that willed him on.
That was his purpose.
To kill, to destroy.
Even now, that the war was over.
Now what was his purpose?
Perhaps God had taken pity upon him.
Granted him a soul.
Given him life, love, and friends.
His other half willed him to destroy them.
He couldn't.
He could never let evil to allow him,
to kill anyone, he loved.