Dark Messiah

He says he's me.
I look down at my own flesh
My blood, my hands
White gloves palm-up
Turned towards the heavens in
Prayer.  So empty.

He laughs at my confusion
"I am your Messiah."
Your.  Mine.
I know in my head he's lying
Deranged, insane
But my hands are still empty
Even as they grasp my sword.

This world needs me, she
She says.  All her hopes
Rest on my shoulders.
I love the sight of those eyes
Blue eyes, looking at me
Hate the sight of tears in them.
False heart, and still
It burns me, deep inside.

This world…
Maybe it needs me, but it doesn't
Want me.
I'm an outsider, invader
Stranger from another time.
The world I fought for, died for
Died without me
And only the ghosts remember.
Only they have faith.

Them, and…her.
I hear her voice even now
Crying, worrying…
Wanting.
I hate this world.  I always have.
Death and centuries pass but
People never change.
The ghosts grieve for me, and yet
The blood on my hands as I strike him
Is for her.