"Love thy enemy," they say,
Unbeknownst to the sorrows of the past.
It is indeed a sad world
when the past need be forgotten
and thy enemy be loved.

"Love thy enemy," they command,
but oh, how could I bring myself to?
It is the wickedest deed of all;
loving thy enemy is almost
a betrayal to thyself, is it not?

"Love thy enemy," they scream,
and I possibly might just,
for I have seen what most haven’t;
Thy anonymity be not forgotten—
only mourned.

"Love thy enemy," they whisper,
for now it is time.
The wickedest deed is done,
and thy love has paid its price.

"Love thy enemy"
"Love thy enemy"
fades into the background
as your blood seeps out
and your eyes fade to black.

Thy heart loves no more.