Marked

A child twice marked with Satan's blood
touched by death at the tender age of four
the weight of the curse his life did crush
forged in this heat he became a flaming sword

fielding no questions of what he became
swooping down on foe he heard there cries
fire encircle him and kept him aflame
while they cried for their god, cloaked in his lies

death's hand familiar, brushed him again
destroying all the flesh, leaving only sin
lifting up his head with pride and prowess
he sifted through the sands in search of his goddess

through long fierce journey the destination found
one with claws so sharp and skin soft as down
as they fell to hunt in predatory glee
the shadows fell long and the love did flee

many have come and many have gone
he became what he became when the day was done
The fires more intense, the darkness low and quiet
it seemed close held flames would finally go silent

He heard the faintest whisper, the sound of falling stars
though they had not known, their paths were never far
a pair of sharpened hunters, they crept without a sound
with word and sword and hand, they rained the fury down