Weary
A river of blood flows beneath me
not for fortune, nor fame.
The blood that drips freely from my veins
was fought for honor, for integrity of my name.
This sword that I grip tightly in my right hand
my fingers are too tired to slip from the worn hilt.
My dark eyes have grown battle weary;
my heart no longer bears the weight of any guilt.
I have fought many battles to uphold my given name;
scars mapped on my body not for this glory, not for shame.
My mind screams of nightmares and unrelenting pain,
another day has ended for those I chose to slain.
Cherry blossom petals fall like splattered droplets of blood
a journey back home with my honor held high above.
(2013)
A tribute to my Japanese heritage...
