Midway between malaise and madness
I blink a baleful tear
crimson, cold with sadness.

The life I’ve left behind
those cut down cowering, afeared
buried in graves with no mark, nor sign.

Burdened by regret and woe
prophecy and path unclear
in my wake fall shattered stones.

“Demon of the West”
moniker hissed, with a leer.
That same face on a pike, at hill’s crest.

Unkillable. Unshakeable. I am the one who waits.
Bane of humanity, bloodthirst I cannot sate.