A Tainted Tragedy

Listen to yourself. That hungry, leering voice.
Look me in the eye and tell me that you had no other choice.
You knew alright. You saw the path that you were taking.
You saw the havoc and the hurt, and the hearts that you were breaking.
You saw fear, and with longing eyes, you craved the pleasure that it bore.
You were addicted to the screams. They didn’t know you anymore.
To them, you were a sadist –the twisted man who wanted violence.
But you know the truth, don’t you? You just want to leave in silence.

So go on then, take the gun. Cradle it, and hold it to your chest.
Pretend the curse you laid upon them didn’t cause this retched mess.
Pretend you didn’t lure them in with your constant web of lies.
Then just like that, isolate those who for no reason, you despise?
Strange, pure, emerald droplets glisten, and seem mirrored in your gaze.
You hide this look of envy behind a glare, so full of hate and morbid rage.
Was it all because of him? Your darling father who’d always reprimand;
Who didn’t yearn the way of arts like you did, laid down his refusal so offhand.
The pain you would have felt, the scars of hurt he would have left,
Perhaps impaired you’re mind just slightly, with his power, his neglect.
But suddenly, this rage fell through you. Left you hollow. Took your soul.

Yet in its place, it left some fire. A sign of war, cascading through the world.