Author's note: This is a poem I wrote that has a number of inspirational sources, mainly related to Halo. Though, this was also a graded piece work in English class to finish off our poetry project. I just want to see what people think about it. /note
I was bred for the purpose to avenge,
To repay for something I didn't see given.
My life was taken, redeemed for a verdant saviour,
Given the authority to do that which no one else could.
Blood over snow, over grass, over my visor,
From the victims of a force that is my nemesis,
Watered the seed of vengeance within me
And coated my growing roots in the soil of retribution.
Flames, flashes, fighting,
Decay, destruction, demise,
It all blurs my mind, like a detail, like
A brushstroke amongst millions of others.
To see the same horrors that got me here to start with,
Erupting from my hands and tainting my steps,
Is to smother a brazier in an oil field,
By fencing wildly at it with a torch.
But vengeance is not the tap that will fill our boiled away oceans,
It is not the force that will bring up ground down mountains,
It is not the sun that will cause scorched dead trees to grow.
Only a rainfall, ceasing the flight of smouldering leaves.
The smoke clutters my mind, I don't know, I can't see through,
I barely remember what I have been taught to know as my family.
Father didn't forgive; my brothers lost their spirits behind the smokescreen,
I am belittled, for fruits of the Harvest were not for my grasp; ash in the air.
We are invaded by those who do not share the same Earth,
Who have not seen the same sun and sky, never seen grapes ripen.
Only rain they've felt upon their skin is that of blood,
The only restraints they know are ours.
Even though I only see their enflamed souls,
Perpetually blazing through their eyes, never what fuels them,
Never what demons torment their hatred, I realize
Their eyes
A reflection of mine, my enemy is the only one I truly know.
Pliant to the same orders and the sort of tyrant giving them,
Their free thinking stands oppressed not unlike vermin,
A creation crafted by the malaise of many, reworked by the suffering of effort,
Trained alike mine to be aimed by someone else
Why is it then so hard to relieve the pressure,
That which my mind exerts on the shotgun trigger?
Why is it so hard to step away from something I so much despise?
Why doesn't the boundary of mental clarity appear for me to cross?
Because vengeance is to waiver,
Much like sacrifice is to vindicate,
And ultimately my life has been the ultimate forfeit,
Which we held within our grasp, within reach
within Reach.
Then and there we learned that we could strike back,
Avenge, retaliate, but we could never attain true vengeance
For Elysium is a cinder in space, nothing
Ever settles the score for that.
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