Malevolent Force--Poem, G

[Tsukasa Futaba]

It is Really Untitled~Force

This endless abyss,
With infinity blue coloring,
Is surely fit…for those who are lay to rest,
But surely, it is for those whose journey’s have ended.

My journey…I do not want it to end.
My journey…has just begun.
I have made my voyage,
Across this endless sea,
The endless sea which presents itself as a reality,
Of which was not real.

Has my journey ended?

But if it has, why have I been given such weapons of destruction?
Why have I not chased down…what I have been destined to kill?
Why has he eluded me at the last second?
When will he stop running away?
Be not a coward.
And face death.

I hear it,
The reiteration of that story.
Yes, that story—which has been told,
No matter how many years have passed,
No matter how many individuals have wasted away,
No matter how many times everyone tries to deviate from Fate.

Destiny and Fate,
Many think it is the same thing,
Many think it is death,
Many think it is an abomination which constricts them to mortality.
However, it is just how you make it;
Though one is tied to the inevitable outcome of their life,
What and how exactly that outcome happens depends on their actions.

I, however cannot say what exactly Destiny and Fate are,
But I…really and truly do not care about Fate,
Neither do I care about Destiny,
But you can always change your Destiny.
Nothing is pre-determined.
Even if you see into the future (seer),
You can never really say for sure,
If the future alters,
From action.

Through these eyes,
Through this broadsword,
Through this life,
I have seen,
There has been no change,
In humanity’s tale of never-ending corruption.
Everyone has corruption,
Everyone knows that they have lied at least once in their lifetime.

The ruins I walk through,
The collapsed pillars of which have been deteriorating to dust,
The flash of a cape,
The flash of a sword,
The sound of a step.

Running again, are you?

Can you run away from your destiny?

You turn around and grin,
Surely enough one that is mocking enough,
To make the grip of my right hand tighten on the handle of my broadsword,
The foolishness of your existence dispels all calm,
Turns calm peace into chaotic terror,
And surely enough there is no doubt,
In those contaminated eyes,
You think this is a game.

As the sky turns from light to dark,
From dark to light to grey,
As the canvas is drained of its color,
From rainbow to a blank nothingness,
My journey continues,
And it won’t stop,
Until I kill him.
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