323rd Post

A wind blows.

Its hollow sound echos in the passageway of silence.

Whispering secrets past.
Whispering of the history.

As i wander about.
In this dark and dank passageway.

The memories flood.
Like a river overflowing its banks.

Oh how i loathe it.
When the blood tears start to fall.

Such loneliness and despair.
Not even the whispering wind knows.

Such tremendous anger welled up.
Not even the walls dare to mention.

The devil beckons.

But with faltering strength.
I barely resist his calls.
For i am not ready to return home.

But how long can my wanderlust last?
Before i finally call it quits and return to my former self.
As the dark lord of death and destruction.

Would a slice of silver intertwined with my cold blood.
Remind of me what i am?

Would it?