Lo do I hear the screams, shattering windows with anger, pain and the ever eternal question "why?"
They do call to me, beckoning ever longer that I take my place among them once more to endure what I thought would kill me the last time I passed through these chambers of unending sorrow.
Alas, I have met my fate.
Her cold, dead hands grasping my ankles whilst my fists with knuckles clenched to white are forced to remain at the level of my eyes.
The shackles that bind me to the wall of my shame, feasting on my blood and flesh as they dig deeper and deeper; this night will never end.
With caution all but nonexistent, I scream not.
Lest I recall the voices of those who once stood before me but did surely fall.
Flashes of distant memories scar my vision, a constant and blurry face forever remains in my peripherals as a reminder of what I had done.
In days not so long ago, I once was the noblest of warriors; bound by honor and all that was "just".
Sadly now I bear only the marks of a coward, self affliction riddles my arms and body to reflect the inner scars of this; my tormented soul.
I could cry out for this to end, I could take the barrel loaded and place it firmly upon my temple, I could end this all with the simple squeeze of my finger.
But I do not, a further reminder of the cowardice I have become, the crimson of a once beautiful creature stained in the blood of righteous enemies.
The tears I cry is not solely out of sympathy, I admit.
I do not cry because I feel so sorry for them, not always.
No, in many moments I am crying for me or the man I used to be; rather.
Now only a monster, turned from man, walks this road of perdition in this; my purgatory.
©jarnmarr
J