THE BASTARD SON.
Since the dawn of time, my life has been my own
The seek and hunt for love
The incessant pursuit of peace and affection
Yet meet only spite, hatred
A pure and perfect hatred that only ever grows
The fury in my eyes and the pain behind them
For all those failures in seeking the approval of men
Who value only strength and stoicism.
I’m a curse of this world, living and never being able to die at will
Alone, my heart is broken and my mind is haunted by the past
So I am scared.
My cloth is soaked with tears and my soul drenched with blood.
My rage is overtly grown, but watered in fears.
I took the high road, out to find myself
I sought and I found not.
So I ran. Deep into the world of the unfamiliar
Yet still, they look, and they know.
I’m the wronged, I am the dead but never mourned
And whilst everyone gets what they’ve wanted,
My walls shatter.
Yet in all that, still I find joy
At the sight of my foe’s blood, and their eyes begging “Mercy.”
Dunca9n 