[ Rolled a DK, this will be updated infrequently depending on my mood. ]
I've fought. I've endured. I've bled for the purple. Bled for my lands. Gills of blood lost at each skirmish, theirs and mine. A mere inconvenience back then, as the corpses racked up; Grass turned red. Encouraged.. Encouraged or blinded by others. Either way it was a fool's quest. So many of us signed, stood there side by side; To be struck down and risen. Risen like it was nothing, like we were nothing.
They were right. We are nothing. Merely a number, a number in the masses; The more that fell; The more got send in. The less that returned; The harder the demands. It was so.. Trivial.
Life still is. Or this.. Unlife. This undead state.
Once my heart pumped with each strike, with each footstep. Once my muscles got sore, or I simply entered this state of exhaustion. I no longer get tired.. Yet I am. Weary as humans would call it. Weary of this world, it's lust for battle; For confrontation. It's hypocritical state where all wear masks. I see right through them; Their lives meaningless in the grand scheme of things. The captain who disregards the mistakes from her friend; The author who asks for feedback but when delivered is stepped on it's toes. And even these fools that speak in whispers as I pass; I hear and see it all.
It does not bother me, I am bereft of many things. Including my own heartbeat and life; Yet I still walk. Yet I still think; And hunger. My blade, a simple one yet with each sickening life it takes; A satisfied one. Yet it can not be satisfied fully, it never will be. It was made for me, by me and without it I am nothing. Maybe I already was. Or maybe without it, I am free. I can not bring myself to try it, as it is mine. Just mine.
Bred for battle; Slain in one. Risen afterwards to continue my path in this wicked. This wicked body, where my mind never seems to be fully owned; It never seems to be fully me, yet I walk on. I walk through lands that once were my home; Were I once fought and stood alongside family. Yet now, now that my heart no longer beats; I am unwanted. I am feared. Some claim it is now my footsteps that corrupt the woods.
Contradictions. They amuse me so.
I've fought. I've endured. I've bled for the purple. Bled for my lands. Gills of blood lost at each skirmish, theirs and mine. A mere inconvenience back then, as the corpses racked up; Grass turned red. Encouraged.. Encouraged or blinded by others. Either way it was a fool's quest. So many of us signed, stood there side by side; To be struck down and risen. Risen like it was nothing, like we were nothing.
They were right. We are nothing. Merely a number, a number in the masses; The more that fell; The more got send in. The less that returned; The harder the demands. It was so.. Trivial.
Life still is. Or this.. Unlife. This undead state.
Once my heart pumped with each strike, with each footstep. Once my muscles got sore, or I simply entered this state of exhaustion. I no longer get tired.. Yet I am. Weary as humans would call it. Weary of this world, it's lust for battle; For confrontation. It's hypocritical state where all wear masks. I see right through them; Their lives meaningless in the grand scheme of things. The captain who disregards the mistakes from her friend; The author who asks for feedback but when delivered is stepped on it's toes. And even these fools that speak in whispers as I pass; I hear and see it all.
It does not bother me, I am bereft of many things. Including my own heartbeat and life; Yet I still walk. Yet I still think; And hunger. My blade, a simple one yet with each sickening life it takes; A satisfied one. Yet it can not be satisfied fully, it never will be. It was made for me, by me and without it I am nothing. Maybe I already was. Or maybe without it, I am free. I can not bring myself to try it, as it is mine. Just mine.
Bred for battle; Slain in one. Risen afterwards to continue my path in this wicked. This wicked body, where my mind never seems to be fully owned; It never seems to be fully me, yet I walk on. I walk through lands that once were my home; Were I once fought and stood alongside family. Yet now, now that my heart no longer beats; I am unwanted. I am feared. Some claim it is now my footsteps that corrupt the woods.
Contradictions. They amuse me so.