Depth

Don't count on me, time. I will not fall into these Traps you lay for me. You will send death here, Riding on a black stallion, Carrying papers. My name is listed, Near the top, written in blood, Requested with haste. He rides to my lair. But I stand ready, steadfast, Against the dry wind. "You will not take me," I cry, as I lift my sword, My shield, my armor. My forsaken soul, He stands with me as well, sir. Armed to the hilt, squire. Distant flames reflect, In my eyes, a glimmering, Passion incarnate. My sword sheathed in blood, Raised to greet my challenger, Teeth grinding gums. I see your eye's song, Singing me to sleep, sleep, sleep. Halt this argument. Come with me, sweet child. But my ears are now immune, Hear not, but the wind. You dismount prepaired. Steel like lucifer's own horn, Shimmers in twilight. You raise to meet me, In a struggle for my right, My life and my all. Could those be tears, sir? You are so close to me now. I can see moisture. "All I want is you, You to come home to me, son. We don't need to fight." How can this be true? When did death care about me? Could I have been wrong? You lay down your sword, Your hands upon my weapon, I bring them down slow. You look at me so, As if I had betrayed you. With want and regret. I see the conflict. I release my burdon now. My hands are empty. Your advantage comes, A quick daggar to the side. I am homeward bound. Written November 21st, 2001 © on Nov 21 2001 07:50 AM PST   0 • 1