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He Stands Alone
By
teh tarik
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Soaked through skin and bone
A sword in his hands, he stands alone.
Sprawled on the ground; limp, lifeless forms
Dead eyes rolled to the raging storm
Blood mixing, mingling in the rain
Leaving on the earth a scarlet stain.
He stands alone unable to cry
His face is wet but his eyes are dry
His tears are the blood and the blood is his tears
A smile plastered on concealing his fears.
At such a high and bloody cost
He dearly paid, his innocence lost.
The smile now a vague, flickering illusion
The surface was calm but beneath was confusion.