Reparation

What has come of the man, who butchers indifferent

The innocent, who slaughters countless in his pursuit

Of redemption, and in dissecting his indiscretions

Finds confessions bound by pride and prose

If I knew the words, you would be the first to know

But I have slain this world for my own

And no shadow remains, to cover the stains

The fires brandished will not wane, this lax moment

Covers chaos, bids renewal away

What has come of me, a man who sways

Lives, some with spades and lies, the others

The ones who traverse the smothering heat

Burn with me, some scream, some welcome the heat

As a star, I am indifferent to all that you are, though

I find you lovely, and paint shadows on your walls

Though I sense what is coming, without pretense

I welcome open arms, of all I have wounded, but would never scar

As ordered by the universe, of which I am phantom

And harbinger of the end, of this I am a god

Broken, a collision of prior determinations, a remnant

Of the vacant stare of my own reflection, I will quell my demons

For the sake of remembrance, these are not chains

I am bound with, but the fate of an equal

One who earned my respect, even as I earned my death

By those hands, the distance between the sun and

Circumstance, the rift between mind and flesh

Come closer, I'll show you

All I have hidden, for the intensity you've borne

By the bloodiest of hands, I offer these words

In payment for my sins, and worlds more in respect

For what you have given.