by D.C. Logan
I can't reject this empty hole
I cannot count the bloody cost
I can't believe this wretched soul
come penetrate all this loss
Oh God, when would it end. He stared over the battlefield. Feeling empty and alone in the face of his guilt. All he wanted was peace, and although he knew logically that he’d have to murder people to get it—he didn’t realize the death toll would climb this high. It went against every tenet he’d been brought up with. Life is sacred, life must be protected. The strong must care for the weak. And then this. Destroying military installations and soldiers was one thing. In the arena of battle, the players were combatants who at least knew the score. Involving civilians was an altogether different premise.
come on and kill this sense of life
and be the one who is denied
now show me one more upturned knife
and fill the emptiness inside
He moved Deathscythe carefully through the rubble, using his sensors to locate any signs of life. There were none—though people were strewn about him in plentiful disarray. He stopped and looked at his vid screen. A young boy, maybe seven or eight years old, auburn curls about his head, perfect and whole except for the magic jugglery that animated a live soul. Another victim of the concussive blast that had torn through this part of the city. Another child—his life no longer ahead of him—now dead due to Duo's actions.
if I could leave my burning skin
that has been used up in your sin
is there a tiny part of me
untouched—unsoiled by misery
His gundam froze in position as Duo, unable to handle the controls, wrapped his arms around his chest and supressed a welling internal surge of agony. He felt an overwhelming guilt over the actions of his life that brought him to this point. And wondered guiltfully if anything "good" or "decent" existed in him anymore. If anything ever could again. What had he become? Why did the path to peace have to bathe the ground in rivers of blood?
I am the city that will lie
you are the one that blame passed by
this is the place where I will weep
the loneliness of sweet conceit
He clutched at the controls. Needing to get away from the exposed graveyard. He navigated carefully away from the site of the battle, moving through the ruins as the embodiment of death. Should he end his life—or would that be one more sin added to his considerable list. How can he live with himself after this—could he ever hope for forgiveness?
be mine sister salvation
juke-joint jezebel is coming for my cremation
be mine sister salvation
closer now—see the revelation