Omerta

when he woke up
she had left
he never really knew her
went ahead with things too fast
made clear feelings that werent clear
maybe they were just that.
feelings.
nothing deeper
nothing lasting
maybe
he lived in delusion
entertaining himself with wild fantasy
imagining
dreaming
and one day she just left
like that
out of his life
away
he didnt sleep that morning
he just sat up
neither sad
certainly not happy
stupor
his acclamations
awards
acheivements
faded into the night
they meant nothing to him
like everything else that morning
he was alone
when finally
sleep claimed him
she appeared in his dreams
tormenting
him
like the wraith that flits between worlds of the living and the dead
so she passed in and out of his reality for those few days
words
words
meaningless
like music
meaningless
empty
there existed a large pit
a sense of death
as if though he were alive
but in reality dead
his mighty frame
reduced to a shadow
he tore himself apart in a nevernending
swirl of emotion and counteremotion
of tears and bitter, hollow laughter
he delved into the world of poe
of sadism
and macabre tales
his very countenance became dark
and foreboding
soon
he regained his strength
stronger
mightier than ever
he rose from the ashes
like the phoenix reborn
so he returned to the world of the living
and his friends rejoiced.
until they realised
that he was no longer the person they once knew
twisted
and corrupted by his losses
both of them
he emerged
an unholy
blasphemy
a terror and a blight unto the galaxy
and he slaughtered them
one by one
his mind twisted and perverted by
anger
his raw, seething hate drove him
gave him strength
as he fought
and fought
till there were none left
but the emptiness was not filled
and he killed more
he fed on fear
but for all the fear
for all the hate
for all the people he slaughtered
he was not
satisfied
he was not
fulfilled
every night
away from his master's watchful eyes
he cried what tears he could
remembering.
beneath the hate
beneath the mask
was a young boy
who dreamt of the stars
who saw great things
who believed in angels
a boy
who
loved
perhaps one day
he would find that boy again
he needed a saviour
he needed
hope
a new hope.
-vader

ok
that was random
maybe rather bad
no idea what inspired me to write that
ah the beauties of a blog isnt it
anyway
chinese tomorrow
rather dead for that
har har
yes well
sigh

thoughts of you sneak into my mind
wishes
dreams
not much unlike my idol perhaps
" are you an angel?"
perhaps it is more than i think
perhaps
like my master says
i am too much of a cynic
i wish
i hope that is so
if only you knew
how much
i adore you
maybe you'd think different then
maybe i would.


for us
there is no defeat
for we have fought
and fought well
if we fall in battle
it is glorious
and honourable
there is no shame
there is no disgrace
but there is honour in
fighting to a man
to standing your ground
never give up
fight
for
tbiytb



pax dronga!

posted by S @ Sunday, May 08, 2005