The Enemy

One of my poems that I am not sure if it's done or if it needs more. I might write a part 2 someday.

Every night he lurks,
Awaiting enemies that were never his.
Slowly breathing in,
The horrors that had become nightmares.

He wasn't supposed to be there,
He wasn't supposed to be a witness.

But it's part of him now.

Every part he remembers,
Blood of the innocents going dry.
Always blaming somebody,
A being who wants to be a savior.

Not everyone will get that.
Not everyone will care.

But the image shall stay there.

Every good deed,
They can be considered a fault.
Caring too much,
Can bring the wrath of death.

So he shall hurt the enemy.
So he shall make it right.

But that was his mistake.