The cold-hearted killer,
The stalker's inner lust;
What seperates these people
from the rest of us?
Are my hands any cleaner
than the stains on yours?
Is my heart any purer
than the darkness beyond cures?
Why then, do we judge
them unworthy of life?
Why then, do we slaughter,
then claim His sacrifice?
What then, divides
the Light from Dark
Mercy from Justice, Truth from Lies;
What is the difference, the invisible Mark
Between false tears
and real cries?
Conscience? Overworked. The poor little thing
Justice? Pah. The empty King
The Bible? Perhaps. But even scholars sin
Love? Even worse. Brothers killing kin
To this day and to this hour
I seek an answer, however dour;
The best I know I dare not trust
for its the question of "Can" and "Must"
Can we do evil? Must we try?
Is it wrong
to dream, to fly?
Perhaps Desire was never the Sin
but rather, the Act, of giving In.