poem4

You wander through the world,
    From one bed to another,
        Taking virgins,
            Breaking hearts,
                Abandoning those in need;
It's nothing to you, Ares,
    Only the thrill of the conquest
        And the taste of victory.
Oh, Ares, can't you see,
    Don't you know?
This life, it's good now;
    You're winning and in control.
One day, Ares,
    You'll wake up in a world
        You don't know,
            With not a one left
                To care at all,
                    None to offer comfort.
You'll look around
    A ruined battlefield, Ares,
        And cry out in anguish
            When you realize
                You have finally received
                    That which you have always given--
                        Pain, despair, and solitude...
There are those who
    Open their arms to you even now, Ares,
        But you only laugh, sneer,
            And run your bloody sword
                Through one pure heart after another.
One day, a broken sword
    Will be all you have left;
        Love, warmth, and hope
            Will no longer belong to you then.
Though the angels cry for you, Ares,
    With eyes cast down in grief,
        Even angels can be turned away,
            As you turn from them one by one.
And in the end, Ares,
    Though you place the blame on
        Everyone in and out of view,
            Save one,
                You know deep inside,
                    Only that one--
                        Yourself--
                            Holds the fault.