Perspective


The memories of the fallen,
Is where I reside,
And the tops of the mountains,
Is where I will hide,
The cries and the sorrows,
Of which I will scream,
Where the things of our past,
Are the things of your dreams,
To destroy and to heal,
All the wounds that I’ve made,
Or to answer in full,
All the things that I’ve prayed
The goal of the job,
Is to understand and destroy,
But before you can do that,
You must learn not to enjoy,
The,
Thumping bumping,
In the night,
Till’ you are woken’ with morning lite,
The flashbacks and screams,
Of memories and dreams,
Will find and destroy,
And split you at your seems,
All but your guilt will be forever destroyed,
Leaving a hollow empty shell,
Of the one they employed,
So when you dispare,
Pick up your head,
Because all you are,
Is heavens thread.

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