
(A/N: This is a Marco POV. It's sort of his monologue about seeing the straight line while trying to walk the fine line of right and wrong and still keep anyone from suspecting what he does. Respectfully submitted, Dark_One Shadowphyre.)
-- -- --
The straight lines are the paths I see--
Moving from point A to B.
The straight lines are the ones to take;
Move straight through, no mistake.
-- -- --
The fine lines are the paths I walk,
Like when to act or talk.
The fine lines I must walk with care,
"To kill or not?" they dare.
-- -- --
The straight lines go from left to right
The fine ones waver; dark or light?
To balance both takes lots of care
To keep from tangling in there.
-- -- --
I walk two sets of paths, it's true
And more, I walk to free you.
But the path I loath to walk the most
Is the path of a liar's host.
-- -- --
I've learned to walk a path of lies,
A spin of fancy sugar pies,
And though I hate to maim and kill,
I must do what I will.
-- -- --
For it's the straight lines that I see,
That move from A to B,
And it's the fine lines that I tread
So as not to wind up dead.
-- -- --
When to trust and when to fight?
Which time is right?
Sometimes, I don't know anymore.
I can't tell what's in store.
-- -- --
And so I walk that tri-cursed triple path,
And each ends in blood bath.
The straight A to B to C line,
And the one too fine.
-- -- --
And the one that makes me lie,
To tell half-truths under a stormy sky.
The one that will always end in death
When someone draws last breath.
-- -- --
Calculation, cold, and cruel,
No true right/wrong rule,
Lies, deceit, and bloody death...
That is all that's left.
-- -- --
You may ask, do I like what I've become?
Do I like the view I see life from?
No. I hate to have to balance there
Between "cruel" and "fair".
-- -- --
But if I could do it all again,
Would my choice remain?
Would I choose to fight the war?
Yes. I have reasons to fight for.
-- -- --
What are my reasons, you want to know?
My best bud Jake, whom you know,
His cousin Rachel, and girlfriend, Cass,
Tobias, and our boy Ax.
-- -- --
It's for my friends I fight this war;
It's freedom that I fight for.
But as I fight, a question comes to mind
Of where to draw the line.
-- -- --
Straight lines, fine lines, lie lines, too,
They twist in front of you
So you no longer know when to pause
When you see no cause.
-- -- --
If I could always be so sure
To never choose wrong,
This war might not be so confusing
Maybe hope could take wing.
-- -- -
Instead, we fight, and I walk on
Until it's gone.
Until there's no one left to fight.
No thinking, "Tonight?
-- -- --
"Is it tonight that we all die?
Tonight we cry?
Win or die, free or dead,
Which is ahead?"
-- -- --
Though I can no longer tell you which,
It really is a stitch
When you hear "Those who fight and run away,
Live to fight another day."
-- -- --
Are any of us really still alive
Will we survive?
Will we be able to resume our places, free?
And is there room for me?
-- -- --
I've become something I don't quite like,
Something that's cold and cruel.
And yet, there's still that little spark of love
Like a reminder from above.
-- -- --
A reminder of why I'm in this fight,
Why I go to die each night.
Why I walk those twisty paths--
And still, I laugh.
