Under the Influence

If I am not the one chosen to fight this battle then by all means, show them to me! Is it the sobbing bastard in the corner mourning his own defeat or the selfish bitch moaning at the hands of her second lover? Are they worthy? Are they? TELL ME!

The truth was only ever as far away as you pushed it, blinded and confused with the hands of a mother, godless in her quest for your perfection. Stop. You of all people know no one can save you. The snow on the Stairway only has one purpose: so the angels can watch you fall.

You are weak in the way of dependence, excusing nothing and justifying every act committed. Your achievements are many in the eyes of men, but men lost their favor with the gods long ago. Even if you never bought into all the glitter and gold, you are guilty by association. Your currency is worthless. There is no buying your way out of Hell this time.

This is Hell, can't you hear the screams? Or have you become so desensitized to the fire you mistake them for the lullaby Satan sings you to sleep? When the eyes of a devil tuck you in at night don't cry for your savior now. You tightened that Noose yourself, or don't you remember?

I remember. I can still taste the sharpness of the blood in my mouth; smell the iron on your hands. Maybe it wasn't my battle to fight but I was ready. I was willing. If you could have looked past your own narcissism my murder would have meant something. No... no. They were right about you.