The Madness Of A Haunting Pain Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

The one who fights by the fire shall die by fire.
If only in ones heart to admire.
With the peddling of courage on a stick.
If it was so easy not one would be as they stand.
Mere boys, not the men of man.
A planned absence not from those who suffer.
But escaping the sight of it, the misery of it, the pain of it.
A mourning of the fallen star no one else sees.
Because they follow there eyes as they believe.
Neither wrong nor right, because without a light to lead the way there is no insight.
Seeing beyond the trees of a great forest.
Traveling the distances of hawks, as they swoop down upon there prey.
Not allowing the fallen go to waste.
Yet vengeance does not blacken these skies so sullen grey.
For the sun will still yet rise.
No blood, for blood can be equally derived.
As fair trades in life and death is far too little and remote.
Becoming ones own ghost.
Shadowing a past once to follow.
The haunting of the same hollow echo.
And if it repeats it will continue do so not because reason.
But because the madness of those who are enduring this pain.