Man Upon The Cross
13 November, 2002
Author: Sax
Crimson fire,
the sky is burned.
Filled with smoke,
the heavens cry blood.
A crimson rain,
for the crimson flames.
How did I get this way?
I only wanted to be sane...
To be like the rest,
but different in my own way...
Only to be like the rest...
The darkness called me,
I went to it with open arms.
I bathed within evil,
I became corrupt.
Who am I?
What am I?
How have I gone wrong?
Crimson fires envelope my castle,
the castle eclipsed by the sun.
Like the moon over the sun.
I thought this is what I wanted.
I thought this was for the best.
I thought I was right..
But now I find I am wrong...
And now the Heavens cry...
And my castle burns...
I step through the castle doors,
and the flames part.
This is my home.
Always has,
always will.
These flames are not warm,
nor are they cold.
Yet they burn all the same,
feeding on what I once was.
Replacing carpet with marble,
wood with stone,
bright colors to midnight black.
Within my personal chamber it is no different,
crimson flames eat me away.
Upon the wall hangs a Black Cross,
nailed upon is a single figure.
Clad in the night I look closer,
I see his clothes,
that of my earlier years.
I look at his face,
scorched and burned by the flames,
I look deep into his Icy Blue eyes,
and that is where I realize...
The man upon the cross...
The man upon the cross...
He is me...
I know who I have become...
I know what I have done...
I know all too well...
------- Author's Notes -------
Technically you could consider this a sequel to the Black Cross poem, |
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