fascination with lines

I died once. It was uneventful
A blade through the heart
No over rated dramatics
No Romeo to a black Juliet

On that fateful day, my teacher found his prophecy
A man bounded by society's ideals
Yet broken and altered by its truth
Fate has given him the weird of the hunt
Forever marking his dreams; the scent of the kill
Calling, instructing and molding
Strengthening his craving for pain and pleasure
Mocking his flag of honor, morality; his fidelity


I was the source for the rain of blood
Splattering his pure white apparel
As he took respite on a small cataract
From the summons of a hunter god
Instead his providence trapped him in his need
Cornered by curiosity and righteousness

He found my essence flowing in a river of red
Then he remembers his dreams of precognition
And he looks over my dying flesh, knowing his path
Waiting for the ripper before waking me
A canvas for his only masterpiece

I woke up a blank slate. Empty. New.
My master painted me in reds and green
One to remind me of the art of death
The other the impurity of my being
And for a short eternity I was slowly being put together
Every fragment attached to my soul a sacrifice
Every lesson learned was wisdom on mortality's frailty
Every thought was mercy dying inside my mind
And finally, I had to give up my name to a cross
And took another for the truth I have become

I died once. Vile Juliet with blade in her hands.

- seerborn