When the part of you that dies with me rises up like the undead and grasps on to the souls of the martyred with it’s bloody claws, I’ll simply stand still and say, “I told you so.”
Bloodied face, fingernails chipped from holding on for so long, and yet you come back with vengeance, killing anyone who gets in your way.
Words that hurt, words that are etched in to the mind of the ones who held on for so long, yet had to leave for their own sanity.
Don’t forget the ones who made you, soul. For they are the ones who you are taking down in all of your vengeance.
When you’ve had enough, no one will be there, for we are the ones that are on the ground, taking our last breaths.