All is done
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with the descent of a red sun.
It seems so long ago
when the blood shed begun,
but now where wounds once were skin grow.
I still feel the pain though.
Nightmares come with the death of the sun
and in the shadows lurks forgotten fears.
The moon is merciless,
beating an already ailing soul.
I won't give him the satisfaction of tears.
I absorb each blow of an endless abuse
and still way too proud
no one knows
because even the thought is too loud.
Just say it
I demand myself,
but the words are with my last breath.