Life was supposed to go on.
The war had been fought;
I had done my job
But still...
Everyone that I dared to hold close.
Died.
Killed brutally by man himself.
And whom do I blame?
Me.
It's all because of me,
That they aren't here now.
In the land of the living,
Where they rightfully belong.
If only they hadn't met me;
Got to accept me, to love
me...
They would've been alive
today.
The God of Death.
The irony of it all...
But it's true,
The name I carry onto the
battlefield...
I shall carry with me as
long as I live.
Live.
Yes, live.
What a bitter taste it carries.
That I, the one that killed,
live;
And the innocents die.
Cause.
Some cause.
A cause for which so many
people suffer.
So empty…
All this time,
There was just something missing within me.
A conscience? A heart? A soul?
And I wonder if I'll ever be able to cry again,
To feel sadness; harsh reality,
Instead of feeling as I was in a big void.
Where every humane thought and feeling,
Kept out.
And nothing but emptiness was left behind.
What's the use?
Of attempting to right the world.
If I've did nothing…
Just left it worse off than before?