Hollowman

On this page I write Of a man born free of choice With my pen he shall fight And my words will be his voice The lines I draw unknowing Are his to follow He cares not where he is going On the inside he is hollow His world was mine to command A puppet on a string His death was mine to demand Until he meet that thing She was the girl That I did not write into being He began to unfurl His eye no longer unseeing This was not her place I told her to disappear And wrote him not to chase But he did not seem to hear The orders that I have drawn Have fallen on deaf ears He just marched on Apathetic to my fears On this page I wrought Men to halt his advance With my own pen he fought Just for his small chance He had wounds that would not mend His flowing ink pooled on the floor I wrote of his gruesome end But he followed my will no more If I could not put an end to him Then I would take what he was after I wrote her an end that was grim And looked down on him with laughter He mourned but didn’t weep I did not write but still he said You should fear the end you reap By my choice we both shall be dead With the ink that was his soul He wrote an end of his own Where each was his own to control And no one sat upon my throne He did not need to think He already knew the cost With the last of his ink He wrote of the one he lost And drew her a heart