consequences of aftermath

On nights that are not full of moon,

I take my membrance walks.

Pass the broken buildings ruin,

where the ghost of all dead talk.

Over hills of buried flesh,

and littered mounds of bones.

To the deepest part of my backyard,

on the south side of my home.

Where Ive laid all the girls to rest,

who have pushed my love aside.

I am by far the best of men,

But I still do have my pride.

I can take a simple no,

but not a yuukish grin.

And I repay in evil ways,

every now and then.

I look upon the little hills,

Ive made with my bare hands.

And remember whom it is I placed,

in certain parts of land.

Remember how I did the things,

of which Ive no remorse.

How so it true the words you speak,

can often set your course.

So just a little word of wise,

to all who want to hear.

When speaking to some one reject,

be nice so you dont fear.

The consequence of aftermath,

if Im the one who hears...