Every night he lurks,
Awaiting enemies that were never his.
Slowly breathing in,
The horrors that had become nightmares.
He wasn’t supposed to be there,
He wasn’t supposed to be a witness.
But it’s part of him now.
Every part he remembers,
Blood of the innocents going dry.
Always blaming somebody,
A being who wants to be a savior.
Not everyone will get that.
Not everyone will care.
But the image shall stay there.
Every good deed,
They can be considered a fault.
Caring too much,
Can bring the wrath of death.
So he shall hurt the enemy.
So he shall make it right.
But that was his mistake.