(A Dramatic Monologue)
I stand alone, a monument of flesh,
Chiseled by greed, by power's coarse command,
My hands, once pure, now bathed in scarlet hue,
The blood of men who wore the same soft skin.
Do you see me now, within this mirrored gaze?
A tyrant crowned by sorrow's hollow wreath,
A king of dust, with shadows for my throne,
My breath a gale that snuffs the weaker flame.
Where once was light, I cast an endless night,
And in my eyes, the stars themselves grow dim.
I break the bonds that held us close as kin,
And forge new chains of iron, cold and sharp.
I hear their cries, yet turn a deafened ear,
For in their pain, I find my twisted peace.
I trample love beneath my heavy heel,
And let it bleed into the barren earth.
I walk this path, alone yet not alone,
For specters cling like whispers to my side.
They call me human, yet I wear the name
As wolves wear sheep's disguise, to hunt and kill.
I violate the sacred trust of man,
The thread of life I tear with careless hands.
And in the silence that my cruelty breeds,
I find the echo of my hollow soul.
No gods, no men can cleanse what I have stained,
No tears can wash away the marks I've made.
I am the dark, the void where hope has fled,
The man who stands where humanism lies dead.
Comments