My shadows of hope

A spark in the darkness, a fell wind fueled a flame. An evil was given shape, when the world was new. Roused to action by Bauglir's words. The war and the master, both lost to light. Then refuge it sought in the misty mountains. Under Khazad Dum's halls for a while, it dwelt. And there, in the darkness and the dark of mortal heart. It waited in the shadows for a new master's call. For light shall pass on, and die in the west. Where the silver ships of Cirdan are wont to go. And then shall come a time for reckoning. When all shall fall unto shadow. Beware of the dark places where no light dares to be. For there are some things of shadow. That mortal eyes are not meant to see. Beware the spider of Ephel Duath, beware the Uruks and the wargs. Beware the burning eye of Mordor, but above all, beware the Balrog.

Rise and you will fall Fly and you will burn Run and you will tire This world watches with jealous eyes, those, who would stare the sun down and chase the stars across the sky. It would pluck their wings and burn their hopes and dreams. And yet, from the ashes, from the shadows of those fallen before, they will rise until the heavens themselves are conquered. Why, we ask? "Because I could, but was told I couldn't.", they reply. And they, that would grasp for the sun in the sky, they cannot abide boundaries, or lies.

Look in the mirror and I recoil from what I see. Pitted and scarred, ash streaked from the death of a hundred dreams. I run, stumble away, from the instrument of my torture. An honest reflection. I try to hide from my own eyes in a mask. But, to my horror, I see, proof that is inescapable, that this ugliness is my destiny, the mask I wear is just as broken as me.

Conscience, that constant voice, cease for a moment thine eternal noise. I beg thee reconsider this path of constant vigilance o'er acts of mine. This is me! I do declare. I proclaim from tallest tower to deepest mire. Not proud, just broken, I am but an honest monster, wearing a man's skin akin to a lamb coated wolf. I do not hide my claws I do not wear the veneer of respectable sophistry. And yet you prattle to me about rights, wrongs, about valour sung in song, and yet, now, I ask thee be still. Listen. In these crypts of righteousness, where slumber the heroes of the past, what do you hear, else from the constant crunch of their bones beneath my teeth. What defence does lend to them, their valour? None, for in the dark, where hunger lingers, listen. Only silence and I reign supreme.

Find my leg, somewhere out there, find my bullets and my gun. Those that died, whose voice is quiet, they are the lucky ones. I've got to live, one piece at a time, my whole life has again begun. But those who now sleep, in the ground deep, they are the lucky ones.

How can a laugh feel so empty and dry? How could this smile feel so dead inside? How could joy feel this brittle in my hands? How did darkness come to these once sunlit lands. Like glass, to fall and shatter, from pale lips, red spattered. A ghost, upon cheeks of rogue, that never reaches the eyes, this terrible, distraught smile. How did the darkness fall, like drops of burning ink, to color over and cover up, that once beautiful smile.