Hit me with stones but they won’t break my bones,
the sole thing that can harm me are my exact clones.
Am I brass-bound?
I have battled my way through odds for 18 years
and won’t give up till I infiltrate the darkest fears,
hiding in memories that drag me into the wild
where I see myself as a child,
being cursed by dreams & jolted down by bloody screams.
I am scared of myself.
My past has been gory, bereft of any glory,
so don’t expect me to speak flowery or see the brighter side of ivory,
the shady twin is an old friend which now belongs to the bygone age,
where it quivers in agony, since it faced my fiery rage.
There are zilch souls walking the Earth
that can pin me down to the furnace hearth and cast a shadow upon my fate,
which is destined to slay people consumed by hate.
Demolition, my only way out.
I’m not a naive soldier desolated by the masses
but a Lone Warrior resurrecting carcasses.