The Fall of Pride

Yet again, I've written another poem, and I must say that this one by far rivals the intensity of my past works. It's my favorite so far! (And my eagle obsession still stands...)

Pick a bullet for every one of my regrets,

Line the walls with truth, a smoking gun.

I'm in your sights, but I don't buy your threats.

I can't run from what I've become,

Pulsating in me, the trigger tightens.

Ready, aim, fire; I march to a higher drum.

Wailing, screaming, the siren cries,

Too late, the fire's already ignited.

Raining ashes through shattering skies.

You can't match the thunder of my artillery,

Not with the light of a thousand suns.

A bitter facade, your pathetic lies are history.

Propaganda only goes as far as belief,

Feared obedience will always end up shunned.

Like miry mud, the consequences bear little relief.

Why wave a banner so soaked in blood?

You've failed, and yet you're still fighting?

Vengeance comes like a rushing flood.

Dripping with venom, your words,

Filled with cunning, a desirable affliction.

Who knew tongues were flaming swords?

Your danger is that you're a mirror,

And my reflection, how it frightens me.

How have our similarities ever been clearer?

I'll crush your crumbling walls apart,

Tear the seams of a failed regime.

I'll show you who's got the warrior's heart.

And you'll question, what was I from the very start?