I'm the archer, an unseen battle waiting
To shoot with a perfectly timed arrow.
Once my arrow lands in the heart of
My prey, the story is thier's.
Whether they will heal over the arrow.
With words of love and care to themselves.
An illusion of an elegant hero.
Gracefully plucking out the arrows and continuing thier day.
But they are truly masked cowards.
Unable to accept a scar or wound and pleading for mercy.
While they wait for the next arrow to
come speeding through their lives.
Living day by day in a routine.
Waiting until a solution is given to them.
Or the type to let thier mask crack.
And tear it off and let every problem break them.
Crying for a hero to save them
As they hold onto others dragged knees
While they stare at an idol they don't recognize
Worshipping their perfect-appearing lives.
Until they decide life is unfair.
That I am a cruel archer who only hurts the good.
Throwing their broken arrows at others.
Hoping it'll solve the new ones I send thier way.
Sometimes I shoot many arrows at a person.
To see how long they last.
Until I tip them over the edge.
Until they have such wounded lives there's nothing left.
Nothing left but a lofty scarp or empty posion bottle.
I find it interesting when strangers blindly grab these people.
Hold them close to thier chest
Sometimes they don't drink from the rats bottle.
And stare me dead in the eyes.
Promising just one more day after another.
Until I am grow tired of thier cycle and leave them be.
Some people I know deal with the small arrows.
But whenever they get the posioned ones.
The ones with a sharper edge and a backlash effect.
And pull out thier arrow.
Holding it above thier heads
And letting the hearts bleed out.
The blood spilling on thier shirts
And tears mixed with poison watering the ground.
In a horror of beauty they twist thier pain into a plant.
Using the arrow as a seed.
Tears, sweat, blood, poison to water it.
The plant growing into a flower of new hope.
And watching a sun set on the cold life.
Bring a new lesson and a new night to dream.
I'm the archer, an unseen battle waiting
To shoot with a perfectly timed arrow.
Once my arrow lands in the heart of
My prey, the story is thier's.
Would you like to tell me yours?
