A/N:
This poem isn't set after any specific event. Just some sad Erwin.
(This was made by Sam. Vic has like a bajillion poems and I have probably four or five.)
The hole is filled in.
The handmade cross is forced into the dirt.
The prayers are said,
The tears are shed,
And the process starts again.
Bodies fall
In a tangle of limbs
A mess of blood.
A cold example of how life isn't fair
Of how fear remains constant
Of how quick the pieces go to waste
In a half-hearted attempt to win the game.
Treating the situation as your last,
The urge to play your trump card overwhelms you.
And you lose.
Heading back to the start,
To begin another round,
Stings a little, doesn't it?
With all those lives you lost your grip on
Hovering over you, threatening to crush you,
Like the price for your head.
Who knew a man so foolish could be worth so much?
You're wanted
But not for the right reasons.
Maybe,
They are the right reasons?
How would you know the difference anymore?
Good question.
Because you aren't sure you know the difference at all.
Does anyone else?
Would anyone else in your position be able to tell left from right?
And what is right without wrong?
Just how many rules can be written on that blank slate you carry?
You'll have to get a second one
To fit all of them on.
All the guidelines you don't follow
Because the end always seems
Too close for comfort.
And your last resort,
It just seems too sweet to pass up.
There is a reason
Your last resort
Is called the last.
Because this is the last time you can make the right decision on your own.
This is the last time you can call yourself a leader
With all the right qualities.
With all the right moves.
But not in the right time or place.
You stop to think,
The next time you're asked
To take a stroll down that beaten path.
The one that's always been taken,
And always turns south in the end.
Good thing you did.
Those pieces are probably tired
Of being used
With nothing to gain
But everything to lose.
Beaten
Tired
Just fed up
With the promises of winning
And salvation
And survival.
Not only do the price and the lives hang over your head
The curses remain as well.