There's no worse news
than no news,
it's the news you want to hear,
despite all your hopes and fears,
but you have none.
You have only a wing and a prayer
when you feel like you're the only survivor.
You can fight,
and you can bleed,
this was the product,
of such a beautiful seed.
Alone in this desert,
exposed to the open air,
Alone I can only hope,
that no one else is there.
For this is not my land,
no friends here have I.
I must tread ever so carefully,
lest I be caught
and die.
Down to the waters,
which I can only hope is real,
and unto the bazaars,
to which I have to make my business deals.
But even so,
with a crowd full of people,
I am persecuted,
for I come from a land with a church and steeple.
So away I must run,
in hopes for better news,
but not before,
I stop to pay my dues.
There's much to sacrifice,
as there is to gain,
unfortunately my hands are bleeding red,
covered in someone else's blood stains.
I wait here alone,
waiting for the news,
hoping I lost my pursuers,
but unfortunately this is their land,
and it's only covered with clues.
I hear nothing from the village,
indeed it's much too silent,
like the stones upon a grave,
perhaps it is fitting,
for the name of the village,
which the elders gave.
Death's Crossing.
There's no news yet,
as to where they maybe about,
but I'll find them, indeed I will,
I will without a doubt.
For my friends are out there,
and to them I must go,
where and how I shall find them,
I suppose only God the Devil knows.
So clean up that greaser,
and sharpen that blade,
keep safe that picture,
never to let their memories fade.
It's time to find them,
no more the time to wait,
the war has begun,
the enemy has breached the gate.
No more news shall be cast,
nor voices shall ring,
let the bullets fly and the blood rain down,
for there's no other time than now,
to finally start dying.
Unto the breach,
I travel once more,
braving danger and death,
staring at the door.
The worse news I remember,
from my instructor so old,
was the news that you couldn't hear,
the ones never told.