A Thousand Deaths, A Thousand More
Trigger warning. Some may find my words offensive. But an apology is not forthcoming. Not until your good for nothing, absentee god cleans up this shit show he owns. Until that day comes, I rage on.
A Thousand Deaths, A Thousand More
I lose you anew with every breath,
a thousand deaths, a thousand more.
Each dawn is a grave I dig again,
each dusk, the quiet closing door.
No god came forth with open hands,
no mercy wove its gilded thread.
Tell me—if one reigns beyond the sky,
was it power that lacked, or heart instead?
For no being both just and mighty still
would sit, silent, as the world went black—
or if it would, then spare me faith,
for such a god deserves none back.
And mankind—no better, no less cruel,
its hands steeped in another’s pain.
It feeds on greed, on want, on ruin,
and calls its slaughter justified, sane.
The thief who takes, the coward who turns,
the lazy, the selfish, the small, the vile—
the worst of them all, the voice that sneers,
whispers blame behind a smile.
I am left a hollowed thing,
a vessel of echoes and nothing more.
Every step, the abyss calls softly—
every day, the choice: dark or war.
To drown would be so simple, love,
to let the shadows cradle me whole.
Yet vengeance burns, a quiet beast,
a beacon howling in my soul.
Not just for you—my lost, my heart—
but for the ruin left behind.
For joy undone, for meaning stripped,
for all the ways I’ve been unspun.
But if you hear me—if you see,
then know, my love, I beg you this:
Forgive me for the ways I failed,
for every moment I have missed.
Forgive the rage, forgive the cold,
forgive the silence I have sown.
Forgive the ghosts that walk beside me,
the man I am, the scars I own.
To those who wait, who stand, endure,
who bear the weight I cannot quell,
I ask your mercy, though I’m sure
you’ve known the cost too well.
Let heaven watch, let silence mock,
let angels cower, let gods despair.
But know this—I am not your kneeling wretch,
I am not your whispering prayer.
Damn the thief who took you from me,
damn the maker who let it be done,
and damn myself for every breath
that still betrays I couldn’t stop it.
No mercy. No surrender. No peace.
Only fire, only wrath, only the endless,
screaming name of what was stolen—
and the ruin that beckons my name.
