A/n: Sorry, it took a while to update this, I've been busy. Near the end of this drabble atonement comes up again, but that's not what the drabble's about. :)
seto'sgal29-gasp! Where'd you hear about that? If they were to make a sequel I can't imagine it would be for lack of RoyAi, but more for an unsatisfactory ending (I read a spoiler filled summary and felt the movie didn't complete FMA the way it should have). Don't get me wrong, FMA is a show where you can't expect a happy ending filled with sunshine and butterflies, but if you know how the movie ends I think you know what I'm talking about. :)
Also, I'mproclaiming Everto Angelus the most random person to ever review this fic. ;)
One is left with the horrible feeling now that war settles nothing; that to win a war is as disastrous as to lose one. Agatha Christie (1890 - 1976), Autobiography (1977)
#22 Ishbal
I hate myself for what I did.
So much blood and ash still covers my hands.
How many years has it been? It doesn't seem like many.
But it really has been a long time, and I still haven't let it go.
All the lives I took, all the families I destroyed.
Life was meaningless out there, it was taken away so casually.
-
My hands, no matter how much I wash them, have the disgusting feel of ash, and blood.
As soon as I close my eyes each night I see it in my dream…no, nightmares.
Shooting. Bullets rain down from the bullets of soldiers.
Snap. My fingers making the spark, setting another father or mother aflame.
All I want now is to make things better.
Change is in order, change that I will bring. But that is still a long way off.
Red as the flame, red as the blood, red as my bloodshot eyes.
End this guilt and pain I cannot, atone for it I'll try.
END