Force

Drip drop,

Blood dribbles down your hands,

From the smooth, sharp piercing blade,

That stabs without warning,

As you gleefully disconnect from reality,

Thinking that someone else is pulling the strings,

Instead of yourself, the mind as the puppeteer, and the body as the puppet.

‘Shintra Ledamere Latere’

Believe fully now,

That you have done a sin,

A sin that will not make you win,

Any form of power,

Besides the power to be chained and whipped,

As a treasonous dog,

But oh well!

‘Mana ky quar gamel’

Mana with every step,

Every step taken from the pooling crimson,

The still lifeless form,

That was breathing moments before,

Until some force, tore your morals,

Tore your reason,

Right when you tore his chest apart.

‘Quin quar lar’

Exceed every breath,

Right until there are none left,

Such as the corpse that was once before you,

He kept charging forth,

Enhancing and changing, betterment for society at every turn,

But now, alas, the poor bloke exceeded life, and went to a greater goal of death.

Crack, zap,

Now you’re pooling into such familiar crimson,

A whip lies tied to your leg,

A smoking hole in your back,

But no bleeding dagger, as it fell into the river,

By your force, or the other?

The only force that will be known now, is gravity,

Gravity to drag the blade down,

To pull the soaking blade,

To finally make you fall to your end.

End for you, end for him, end for whatever force there could’ve been upon you.