Behind Blue Eyes
Nobody knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes... nobody knows what it's like, to be hated, to be fated, to telling only lies...but my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be... I have hours only lonely, my love is vengeance, that's never free...
He sat on a high ledge over looking New York City. The view usually filled him with a sense of rightness, but tonight he only felt anger. Why? Why was is so hard for his brothers to listen to him He wondered? Was it something he'd done? Said? Or was it just past sins and bad decisions coming home to roost? He didn't know.
I wasn't as though they treated him like he didn't belong... but like he didn't have their respect. Hadn't he earned it? In the battles, the fights, those quite moments when they could almost believe they where at peace? He'd never admit that he craved the battles. Longed to show off his skill, his cunning. He'd saved all of their lives more than once. The peaceful times came more frequently now, the times between conflicts longer. Perhaps therein lied the problem...
He would rather be in a life-or-death struggle, plunging heard-long into the fray, not knowing if he'd survive. To put his life on the line, to prove that he could. To prove he still had the courage to do so.
Not that his family knew. He sighed without realizing it, knowing that his brothers didn't feel the same. The thought that his life felt flat without that surge of excitement, that thrill that filled his blood and drove him forward. He hid it well. Some of the defeats (and victories) had been horrific, but he'd begun and ended each battle with confidence and pride. He'd thrived on strategy and action. He missed it. He desperately missed it.
Sometimes he wanted to ignore common sense, and find a conflict to take part in, but he didn't. He NEVER looked for a fight, would never invite danger. When his fist clenched, he'd crack it open before he used it. He valued his control above everything else, and held it firm. He'd never let them see it... the rage, the uncertainty...
Leonardo stood, and made his way home... to the "peacefulness" of the sewers.
This series is a gift to my steadfast readers of 'And Into My Fire, You Shall Fall'! My apologies, but I cannot update today! I'm waiting on the go-ahead from my friend to use a part of her story as a flash-back in mine! In the meantime, I've been digging through things I'd written, and decided to post these.
Yes, I have more...