The cold nipped at his body like a dragon made of ice.
And the dragon that had tugged on him demands a sacrifice.
Thoughts of homicide slowly changes more to self inflict.
A man whose seen great turmoil whose insides constantly conflict.
Demons now consume him in the shape of bottles and drink.
It's the only thing that keeps his heart afloat, without it he would sink.
Behind his calm, cool eyes there sits a monster holding back.
He's forever at war within himself and tries hard not to react.
Stupidity and ignorance are things he can ignore.
But the people tossing stones at soldiers without a war.
That's simply something he can't take, nor will he ever allow.
He refuses to let these cowards mark his beasts, refuses to take a bow.
What can he do though with these thoughts and his training of brutality?
Nothing without severe recourse of losing his weakened sanity.
His constant conflict leaves him filled with such an abundant rage.
All he can do is bide his time and sit quietly in his cage.
Eyes that hold the monster back, hands that were forged for war.
Never knowing the man who he once was, the man he was before.
©jarnmarr
J