Friday, October 06, 2006

Without Purpose

Out of the fire
The madman came
Blood on his hands
A man with no name.

A man with no purpose
'cept to reign over all
A man without conscience
His desire but to maul.

No mission to accomplish
No purpose to serve
His existence I question
Yet I dare not disturb.

He knows that I'm out here
I'm his enemy, his foe.
When he finds me, my defense,
Well, I really don't know.

The time of our meeting
Grows closer each day
And when we face each other
One of us shall pay.

But who?

1 comment:

Mea said...

oooooooooh i love this one hunna! Chilling!! Very good!! I love when you write stuff such as this!