287th Post

Tap Tap Tap.

The sound of footfalls.

Behind thee.
A village burns.

Blood stains the burning walls.
Bodies drained of the precious life fluid.

For those that remained.
It became their funeral pyre.

Such a heavy price this innocent village paid.
For my wanton destructive anger.

But yet.
As i wander around in remorse.
A certain frustration of unknown origins wells up.

How many more villages must become the funeral pyre of the innocent.
How much more blood must i spill.
Before i finally become at peace.

I clutch my head.
Falling to my knees.
Screaming.

A certain form of temporary comfort overcomes me.

Are tears the only source of comfort in venting out this anger?

I am most uncertain.
As i continue with my unstable self.

I don't know.
When my next attack of wanton destructive madness will come.

I wish i can lock myself up.
In an abandoned asylum.

So that i cause no more pain to others.
But only to myself.

Inflicting destructive fatal wounds.
In which no one sees.

So pick up the knife.
Plunge it into me.

For i can barely take it anymore.
Let me cease to exist.
As a cursed being.

Let me take my long delayed rest.
Forever.

Amen.