Hello fellow poets, finally got something new for you all. It is a bit different but i hope you still all like it. (Oh and it's quite long)
EDIT: I added a different ending, as i felt the first one was a bit rushed, i also left the original so the could be compared.
Feel the masterís wrath,
Feel the creatorís chill,
Feel the fault in all creation,
See the feebleness of you will,
See a heart thatís meant to be broken.
See a being made to be forged,
Feel your hate for the creator,
And now 12 truths shall be heard.
12 are the apostles,
That once proclaimed light,
To lead us down a road of hope,
Only providing a false answer to our blight.
11 represents balance,
The way the world should be,
Not overrun by evil,
Everyday killing you and me.
10 are the fingers of our hands,
With which we commit our masterís deeds,
Weapons to cause pain,
To make our masters enemies bleed.
9 are the cracks,
That slowly cause my heart to tear,
That slowly ooze out love and warmth,
Allowing corruption to make a home there.
8 are the venoms,
That eat away the flesh,
And leave me vulnerable,
To our masterís wild thresh
7 are the continents,
Boundaries of separation,
That separate race from race,
And only lead to discrimination.
6 are the walls,
Of this cage I am trapped in,
The boundaries of our minds,
That numbs the mind within.
5 are the shackles.
That bind my arms, neck and legs,
They bind me to a fate,
Where thereís nothing but dread.
4 are the choices,
I have in this pitiful life,
Run, fight, hide or die,
But you can never escape the masterís knife.
3 are the seeds,
With which the creator can forge us all,
With hate, fear and passion,
He guides our race to its fall.
2 are my eyes,
With which I conceive the earth,
And see the eternal sin,
Which we all receive at birth.
1 is the creator,
Whoís grip is cold and firm,
Who he put us on this earth,
Just to watch us squirm.
0 is our chance of victory,
Over spite and hate,
Of overturning our master,
And avoiding our dreadful fate.
For we have no chance of winning,
(Weíve already lost)
No chance of being free,
(Weíre only fighting ourselves)
We are beings forged for a purpose,
(We have no will of our own)
But we have to let this be.
These 12 truths may bring pain,
(Though lies hurt more)
But only in truth can we be freed,
(Or are we too blind)
Fight our creatorís bane,
(Give your life a meaning)
Turn around and bite the hand that feeds.
For there is no other solution,
No other answer to our plight,
So letís bring a self extinction,
Let us all slit our wrist with my knife.