Cloaked in the shadows, shrouded in darkness,
Behind the smoke's haze
An armour you think can protect you,
from my gaze.
You believe it sheathed,
Subdued in the cheer and sneer of these slaves.
But I can hear you breathe,
As distinct as in the silence of graves
Try as you might to mask it behind the sweat
And the smell of burning putrid flesh,
I can feel your scent permeating the air,
As crisp as the petrichor in desert air.
As crisp as the petrichor in desert air.
You think I do not catch, the silent tear that surfaces,
On your blackened face, the line it traces.
Its the apathy in the sympathy in your eyes,
I look at transfixed; as my consciousness ebbs away,
Etched in my existence forever,
For I realise, I was the inconsequential play .
They drive a stake through my heart,
Ending an ever extending agony,
Finally; mercy on their part?
You think you can hide,
watch me burn from the sides.
I see you. I see it all.
As I fall in ashes and rise in smoke
I will watch you burn, your living life,
I will watch you fall,
Though I will forgive you,
The shame of it all.
