He sat among the shadows waiting

For something he could never understand
His nose bled easily, and again from the cold dry air
Broken inside, in his mind, and resolve
Hopes that he would find redemption turned to horror
Sitting amongst graves of killers and thieves
Others called them heroes and patriots
Whose legacies were inked in blood
His heart slowed as the shadows turned to nightfall
Regret and despair filled his lungs
With both hands he clutched the knife tight
Another talisman bathed once in blood, and again
The frost crystalized across his eyes
A deeper sense of evil that engulfs this place settled in
To whom that wanders into the death realm, speak!
Quaked from his throat, a voice not his own
Fear trickled down his leg, steaming in the dead night
Broken voices uttered words with meanings meant to confuse
He tried to hold the knife tight, as if it could protect him
Slippery from the slushy blood dripping from his belly
He drops the blade of which is now his fate
The black tornadoes dance around him
He slumps over, a frozen jester in the empire of dead