Red Rage

He felt it, even as he looked into the lifeless eyes of the one he’d hated for so long. It should have been over, it should have filled the hole inside of him, satiated his lust to put an end to this adversary…

It had been a while since he had gotten some sleep, quite a while. But he did dream. His dreams were all he had. The lucidity of the dreams was disturbing at times, but he’d gotten used to it. Sometimes, he could go into a state of conscious dreaming, and it was just as easy and just as mundane as flipping a switch. No one understood what had happened, neither the ones who cared, nor the ones who tried. It just seemed like he’d stopped living his own life, chasing after the dreams someone else had shown him.

There are times in one’s life when one relies on instinct, prays for it to be right, and carries on. Such was the mistake he made when he went against all good reason and had faith in his emotion. Belief. Believe in something for only as long as it doesn’t hold your head down in water and politely ask you to breathe. Believe in something for only as much as your shredded soul can take. Believe in something only when you are not the only one left to believe.

He had made peace with the fact that the events of the past would repeat themselves, and he would just let it happen. Maybe because he liked the pain or because he wanted to fight it. Only, it wasn’t that simple. There was more, there was someone trying to snake his way through and snatch away what little he had left of that emotion. This he could not tolerate. He finally knew hate.

For someone who’d spent his whole life trying to love, this change infested itself in his charred heart and spread like a cancer until it took control of his actions. All he needed was a little motivation, a little something to let him justify to himself, the reason for going this far, to justify taking a life. He needed it, needed this to put an end to his misery. He had changed. The soul that was now lost would have condemned the thought, castigated it…

Sending someone into the realm of the unknown,

With words of glory and hatred his own,

Walked right out of the arms of an angel,

Into the depths of hell, and back again.

Blocked out the sun and starry skies,

Lost in the haze a thousand lies,

And in a moment did he forget,

The soul of a wretch was all he’d slain.

He had to lose, and lose he did,

To live without a soul; the highest he had bid,

And now he walks among those who see,

With eyes burnt out and souls that bleed.

The fire in the pit could burn,

A million angels in its turn,

But at the end not one regret,

All feeling lost, naught within his soul was left.